Bedtime Stories

Bedtime's not quite this peaceful...but it's close

F OR THE LAST few years, my family’s bedtime routine has been one of divide and conquer. The H would take bathtime, I’d deal with pajamas and teeth. One of us would read to the Rock, who generally demanded at least three books, one of which had to contain Clifford, while the River, for the longest time, was really engaged by Laura and the Little House, which I alone would read. But this spring, something had to give, and I feared reprisals.

The H, bless him, has been traveling almost the whole year. He’s working on a wonderful project, but it has kept him not just out of town, but mostly out of the country, for the better part of the last four months. The thing I dreaded most, as I anticipated week up on week of solo parenting: bedtime. (Ok, the morning race to get out the door to school isn’t so fun either. But at least I’m rested when it begins.)

I found ways to make the nightly wind-down easier: both children no longer get bathed nearly every night; we alternate. And often skip it altogether. The River listens to a book on tape while I lie down with his sister for the last snuggles she needs in order to settle in to sleep.

But when it comes to bedtime stories, my kids are unified. They each want a choice, and they want to be read to together. That’s not so amazing, really, but I’ve been stunned by the level of mutual respect each shows the other when it comes to what they choose for their read-to-me material.

The Rock is tending towards fairies, dancers, and animals who love their mommas. (Who can argue?) Not only does the River listen intently, he sometimes takes over the reading if have lingering kitchen clean up to do. And he, though he can now read chapter books on his own just fine, prefers to read non-fiction to himself (he’s big on the history of World War II) and have the fantasy stuff read aloud. We’re deep into The Lightning Thief, the story of half-human, half-god, all 12 year old boy Perseus Jackson. (Unlike the movie version, the book is quite good.)

The Rock, who used to twist and turn and interrupt and sing and generally make everyone but herself highly agitated during the reading of the dreaded Books Without Pictures (oh, the injustice!) now snuggles up between me and her brother, listens intently, and asks questions that show she’s not just following along, but actually captivated.

Will this peaceable kingdom last? I have no idea. But when the H finally returns, he can take back bath duty. I’m keeping reading.

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