Last night my little angel who, on a normal night, goes to bed and falls asleep without so much as a peep, turned into devil child. I had been out with some girlfriends for dinner and returned home at about 9:00pm, looking forward to plopping on the sofa next to my husband who has just returned from six days out of state. I was craving a glass of wine and good conversation with him.

Walking in to the house with all the lights on and no one around, my first thought was that someone had kidnapped him. After all, my husband has a great job, is an amazing dad, can fix anything, and washes his own dishes. These kinds of guys are a rare find, so the kidnap scenario really isn’t all that far-fetched. It was only after I noticed that there was no baby gate at the top of the stairs did I realize he was in V’s room. At 9:00pm? Did he cheat and let him stay up late since Mommy wasn’t home? Were they having so much fun that they lost track of time? Unfortunately, no.

Last night our son decided that he only wanted to sleep in Mommy and Daddy’s bed and no where else. Husband tried for an hour before I got home to get him in bed – but the kid can get out of the bed on his own and open his door and leave his room now, so it’s useless to just leave him in there and walk out. He follows right behind us! Because I typically have more luck getting him down on the very rare occasion that this sort of thing happens, I took over at 9:00pm. At 10:00pm, after about twenty renditions of Goodnight Moon, and countless attempts at reasoning with a two-year old (I KNOW what you’re thinking!), I gave in to the exhaustion and V came to bed with us.

At some point during the night Husband woke up and transferred V back to his own bed. What seemed like only five minutes later (but was really about an hour later), V woke up and came back to our room. After another 30 minutes of screaming at the top of his lungs and refusing to lay down in his own bed, he was back in bed with us. Just before 3:00am I found myself nearly falling off my bed because my son had finagled himself in to my space and even though I outweigh him by 100 pounds, he won the war of the bed space. This is a bad, bad sign.

This time it was me who took him back to his room. I put him under his covers, quickly recited Goodnight Moon yet again, and then told him in a very stern voice “do not get out of this bed”. It worked. Don’t worry, I know that it didn’t work because I used a stern voice – it worked because the kid was too exhausted – finally – to fight with me. And there he stayed until he awoke for his day at 7:00am.

I’ve found myself thinking about this all day. What in the world caused this? I don’t think I have it in me for another night of battle. I didn’t sleep well the six nights my husband was gone so I was really, really looking forward to a great night of sleep last night. Instead, I’m now on 7 nights of bad sleep. And I’m officially one cranky bitch right now.

I have no idea what to do – but blogging about it somehow makes me feel better.

Suggestions? Anyone?

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