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I call these precious childhood moments “The Bedtime Follies.” These four-part (daily) comedies go something like this:
Once immersed, there seems to be a direct correlation between the amount of water that touches the skin and the volume of screaming. Let’s not mention toys that are going astray, water that is soaking the bathroom floor and general mayhem. Soap is a foreign and scary object and, according to the kids, should be treated as such. Soap touching this skin is akin to Superman touching Kryptonite. Except the stakes are apparently higher, if you ask any toddler.
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You’ve managed to get them bathed and clothed in their PJs but you’re not out of the woods yet. The highlight of The Follies is about to begin. People need to go to the bathroom. Repeatedly. People want drinks of juice and water. People want milk. Monsters need to be coaxed from under the bed. This goes on for an indeterminate period of time until mom or dad reaches their limit and shouting commences. Mom and dad are the ones shouting the loudest.
After much time passing and the inevitability of exhaustion (for all) sleep overtakes all parties and the curtain closes on yet another day – or night of fun and games.
Like any good play, there is a chance to confer with one’s date (spouse) post-production over a glass of wine (or two) and to discuss the effect of the previous events on one’s psyche. Was it evocative? Was it intense? Did it bring out emotions in you that you didn’t know were possible? If you are the parent of young children, then the answer is “yes” to all three questions.