Bedtime. Ahhh, peace and quiet at last. Sweet baby Jesus, I never thought it could be so quiet in the house with 2 boys (well, 3 if you include myself). I know. I know. I know. Sometimes I don’t help bring the noise level down. We like to run and chase and scare and shoot Nerf darts and throw indoor snowballs and play kickity kick ball in the hallway. And the music? If you can’t hear it from the other side of the mountain it’s obviously not loud enough for the dance party! The loud peels of laughter coming from bathroom are a joy- even if it does mean there will be water coming from under the bathroom door when I go up the stairs to get them out.
Those are the fun times. However, sometimes the noise level is equal to that of a herd of jumbo jets and is not so pleasant. Bang has a screech that I presume is what a pterodactyl sounded like 150 million years ago. It’s just for show, too. If he doesn’t get his way, or Crash is tormenting him or an ad pops up on the tablet out comes the screech. If he doesn’t outgrow it by the time he turns 4 in June, we might just lose our minds.
But at bedtime… ah sweet relief. There’s no fighting, no screeching, no crankenstein. Messes can be properly cleaned (3 and 7 year olds can clean, just not very thoroughly – like when I asked Crash to clean off the table, he just swiped it all on to the floor.). I can go for my run and regain a little sanity (or I can sit on the couch with DW and eat cheesies and ice cream and indulge in our guilty pleasure a.k.a. The Voice or Grey’s Anatomy on Thursdays).
At least once through the day, usually during the height of sibling rivalry, someone can be heard asking “Is it bedtime, yet?” 6:30? Yes, go your bedtime snack, watch your one episode of Bubble Guppies, and go upstairs to read and go to bed! HALLELUJAH!