thedadblog

At the moment, I've got a three year old. Well, two actually. We ended with twins.

Last night he was crying because he really wanted to outside and play in the garden.

It was the kind of crying that had no end.

The kind of crying born of tiredness. And three-year-old-ness.

So what did I do?

I squatted down to look his tears in the eyes, and spoke quietly to him.

He couldn't hear me. The cries continued.

I repeated myself even quieter.

He couldn't hear me.

He quieted. Hesitantly. Distrustingly.

He wanted to know what I had sad. But he is learned enough to know this might be some sort of ploy.

And so my gambit began.

“We've had dinner. We read books. So now it's time for bed.”

And the wails were back.

He has nodules in his throat from crying.

And so... Quietly... Again.

“We've had dinner. We read books. So now it's time for bed.”

My sweet little boy just wants to go outside. That's all he wants. But it's too late. He should be in bed. With teeth brushed.

“We've had dinner. We read books. So now it's time for bed.”

Confession time. I was lying.

We hadn't read books. None of his siblings had heard any books yet.

And so my deed was done.

I had replaced his need to go outside with 2 more primal needs:

• the need to not be left out, and
• the need to correct the adult who is wrong.

One more time to set the hook:

“We've had dinner. We read books. So now it's time for bed.”

He stops crying. Struggling, he gasps to catch his breath from the sobs.

I wait.

“I”

“didn't”

“read”

“a”

“book!”

I can't let him have it this easy. He needs to feel like he worked for it. So I counter in my steadfastness:

“We've had dinner. We read books. So now it's time for bed.”

“I didn't read a book!” comes his reply.

And now my face drops. The moment I've been waiting for.

I transform from the villain of bedtime, to the hero.

“What?!?!?!?!?!??”

“You didn't get a book?”

“Oh no!!!!! You need a book!”

With doe eyes I say optimistically: “Do you want a book?”

And so he has transformed from devastated wild child to hopeful literary audience.

And I can deliver to him a win. He has corrected the adult. He will get a book.

And I will get bedtime.