A while back I posted a weblog about the FYO's attempts at working around our rules regarding sleeping in our room at night.
I didn't, however, expect her next iteration in manipulative sophistication, which occured this morning: The filibuster.
It was still so dark when I heard her voice in the door "Mama?" there was no looking to the evasive Minnesota sky to get some reference as to what time it was. And, with the baby waking us up periodically, there was no way I could reference my internal clock ["how long have I been sleeping?"] to figure out what time it was.
There's a pee stain in my bed.
Is it dry?
Okay. It won't hurt you then. Go to the bathroom and go back to bed.
But there's a pee stain.
If it's a stain, it won't hurt you, honey. And it's the middle of the night. We're not going to change the sheets right now.
But it freaks me OUT!
How are you SEEING the pee stain in the middle of the night? It's dark out!
I dunno. I just saw it!
Okay. Well, why don't you sleep in the top bunk?
But my blanket isn't there.
[Her blanket had been co-opted by us for use in the rocker while putting the baby to sleep. At this juncture in the FYO's sly manipulation, I had no idea that this sublte shift was actually going somewhere.]
Okay, just take your blanket. That's fine. Take your blanket and go up in the top bunk!
But then the blanket won't be here in the morning.
Me, not following in my sleepy haze: ?
If I take the blanket to the top bunk, it won't be here in the morning when I want to snuggle.
Oh. . . Well, just bring the blanket back with you in the morning then.
But I want to snuggle with you. In bed!
Okay, honey. That's fine.
So, I won't need the blanket then.
Right. That's fine. You can do whatever you want then.
Well, if I can do whatever I want, then I want to sleep with you now. In your bed.
It slowly dawns on me that I've now had a 15 minute conversation with the FYO at five a.m.
Thank god she's no Strom Thurmond. I'll worry if she comes in dragging the phone book.
I took the blankie to her bed to find a TINY little circle of what had to be saliva rather than urine in her bed, covered it with the blankie and tucked her in.
Now, ironically, at 6:50 with the baby crying out for milk and a diaper change, only minutes before her alarm will sound out, and, being that it is a Monday, a school day, and not a Saturday, a cartoon day, the FYO won't be woken. A silver-dollar-sized drip of salivary wetness yes. But an earthquake? No. Even an earthquake wouldn't rouse her this morning.