Routine

We have a bedtime routine at The Old Blue House that seldom fails. The entire clan marches upstairs around seven, I put their pajamas on, brush their teeth, put the boys in their beds, say their prayers, sing a song or two and then leave. Merry gets in her bed, we say her prayers, instead of singing we make up a story. I start, then Merry takes a turn, then me, until the story is over. I am back downstairs by seven thirty, clockwork.

Not last night, I got stuck at work and did not get home until almost seven. Heidi had the kids fed and in their pajamas. I came in went straight to work brushing teeth. Everything was right on track, David fell asleep before we finished the songs. When I got done with Merry, Thomas was still crying. He cried and cried, Heidi eventually went up and got him. Then Heidi went out and the boy continued to cry, I went up and patted his back, as soon as I would stop, more crying.

I decided to just sit in the rocking chair and let the little fella work it out. He fussed until almost eight thirty, he didn't have a fever, his diaper was dry, I don't know why it was as if he swallowed a fly, boy did he cry. David slept right through it. Not six feet away in dreamland, not bothered in the least by the sobs of his baby brother.

Sitting in the chair, I wondered what was going on. Why had the routine failed? Not being totally aware of his day or more importantly his nap schedule I pinned my hopes on that. He either slept late or missed it entirely. With three children either is possible. Then more sinister thoughts began to seep in. Was Thomas trying to changes the routine? Was he trying to get dad to pat his back to get him to sleep?

The reality is he had a rough time getting to sleep last night. Happens to all of us.