If there is one thing we have done right around here, its bedtime.
Every night they get a bath, story, prayer, and a kiss. No more no less. (Well, sometimes no story when we're grouchy. But the bath is non- negotiable.)
All 3, tired or not, go to bed and stay there.
Love.it.
So when one occasionally gets up and can't sleep, it calls for a late-night couch date. We watched Survivor clips and ate kettle korn.
He has been calling me by name for the last month, never Mama. He sounds like such the little business man.
Tonight's convo included this:
"Tonya, why does Grandpa Howard have a head with not much hair?"
"Tonya, yogurt is not food because you don't use your teeth. You just swallow without your teeth."
"Tonya, I really like this room we're in. This one right here."
(when I said he could have a snack)...."Well Tonya, that's really very nice of you!"
"Tonya, you know why I can't put this shirt on by myself? Because it has the same color on the front as on the back."
"Tonya, you're my favorite girl."
A good night for all.
And I realize in looking at that picture that I need to be as good at putting sunscreen on myself as I am at putting it on him. Holy moly.