I came home tonight from a meeting at church + girl time at Starbucks, expecting both my children to be in bed, blissfully asleep. See, it was 10:15, and I had bathed them, fed them, AND put Wright to sleep before I left. Piece of cake for Sam, right? All he technically had to do was put on a movie for Violet and put her to bed. Riiiiiiight.
I walked in the door to find Wright fidgeting/fussing in the Boppy on Sam's lap and a whiny Violet sucking her thumb next to them. Sigh.
(*Commercial break* I am typing this next to Sam's nasty bag of Cheetos he was devouring before I stole the computer from him. Smell. Is. Overpowering. Smells like socks.)
Apparently every time he asked Violet if she wanted to go upstairs to bed, she politely declined and said she wanted to stay downstairs with Daddy. So he let her. Really, I wasn't aware bedtime was optional?? Huh. Just...y'know...hey, whenever ya want/don't want to go to bed s'fine.... Wright had woken up a little before I got home, and Sam seemed unaware that he might need to go back to sleep.
I've read that you just gotta let dads be dads and do things their own way, even if it's NOT the way YOU would, *ahem*, do it. In this case, the method was see-if-we-can-hold-out-until-Mommy-comes-home-and-then-she-can-
fix-everything.
So I put both kids to bed. I guess that's what Moms are for.
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