Our bedtime routine underwent some changes once Peter got his big boy bed. Remember, their beds are pushed together. After books, I tuck both of them in, then lay with Pete for a few minutes, make up songs, help him turn his brain off until he's ready to konk. From there, I crawl over to Vincent's bed, let him scratch my arm (a longtime comfort mechanism of his), while stretching to hold Pete's hand with my free extremity. If you could have a photo of it, I would look ridiculous.
Lately, Vincent hasn't needed much help getting to sleep. After nearly five years of difficulty, the combination of Peter in the room and the routine beginning with Peter, thus forcing him to wait, has allowed him to figure out how to put himself to sleep. As great as this feat is, he doesn't much care for it. He wants the time to armscratch while still awake. Which leads us to this week's words.
Last night, the books were done, the light was out, the tucking was finishing and I said, "Okay Vincent, I'll be over in five minutes but you'll probably already be asleep." To which he replied in that quiet whine of an exhausted kid,
"I don't want me to be!"
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