T, “Read me a story about mosters. A scary story. About a Robot Monster made of poop! And Batman!”
By read he meant tell. And Z had already tucked him in, given him not just water, but ice water, sung him songs, read him a story, and cuddled. Kid is trying to add another layer to the routine and he got me in his room by telling me he “needs” Mommy cuddles and Mommy stories. Yes, I’m that easy to manipulate.
About the poop-he says everything is made of poop these days.
He is obsessed with monsters and scary stories and bad guys. Begs to hear about them. Tell us he wants a bad guy toy at the store (we have no idea what that means). Tells us he is old enough to watch scary stuff on TV. We do not let him. He is fascinated and repelled by this idea of Bad.
“Ok,” I tell him “But this is going to be a fast story. And I’m not telling you a story every night. You’ve already had a story with Daddy.”
“No! Read me a story, not tell!”
“Whatever, dude. It is called telling when it’s a story in my head. So Robot Monster ran in to a bank and he told the people that worked there to give him all their money. They couldn’t fight back because the smell of poop was so terrible that they were just falling to the ground. And then Batman rushed in! And he had a mask on so he didn’t smell the poop! He ran over to Robot Monster and he stuffed him into a bag and slung the bag over his shoulder. Robot Monster wasn’t a monster anymore, he turned into a pile of poop! Batman took him to jail and flushed him down the toilet and no one ever had to worry about him again! The end.”
We cuddled for a moment.
“Ok, dude. I’m out of here. And we are done for the night. You’ve had all your bedtime stuff and I will see you in the morning. Remember, do not come into our room until 6:00. Or there will be no TV tomorrow. You are a good kid. I love you.”
He squirmed up until he was sitting. “Wait, I need water!”
I sighed. “Here. And goodnight. You are a good kid. I love you.”
“Seriously, I’m leaving now. What?”
“Goodnight. You are a good kid and I love you.”
Was he just parroting me? Yep. But whatever, it still melted my heart.
Also, I’m available for parties and other children’s bedtimes. Great rates. But all my storytelling involves poop.
Made sense to take a picture of T for this post. Here’s what I got when I asked him to smile.
Then I asked him really nicely to smile.
Jesus christ, I give up.
This one will always be my baby.