It's all over for me. It's all o-v-e-r.
The Dictator has figured out that, hey, I can just get out of bed. I don't have to wait for my mommy and daddy to come get me. I can just hop out, just like this. Whoo-hoo!
The Dictator has been in her "big girl" bed for seven months. We had ordered her a custom made princess bed. Which is so fabulous that I, in fact, like sleeping in it myself. As soon as it arrived, the crib was taken out, the bed put in.
She had just turned two. I know many parents try and keep their children in cribs as long as possible, for exactly this reason. So they can't just get out whenever they damn well please.
Well, I'm definitely not saying The Dictator is "slow," because it has taken her seven months to figure out she can just hop out of her bed at any time. I just thought we were lucky for having a child who hadn't figured it out yet.
We didn't even put bars up so she couldn't fall out. Are we bad parents? Nah. She has never once fallen out.
Anyway, I hate to admit this, but my almost three year-old does still not sleep through the night. She screams out at least twice, between 2 a.m. and 5 a.m. for "MILK. I WANT MILK. WHERE'S MY MILK? GET ME MY MILK NOW YOU ASSHOLES!" (Ok, she doesn't say that - I'm just paraphrasing.)
Which is why I always look like shit. Or at least that's what I tell people. (It has nothing - NOTHING I SAY - to do with the fact I TIVO every reality show on television, including the one with Hulk Hogan and the one with the dude from The Brady Bunch, and watch them until the wee hours of the morning.)
But the other night, after we put The Dictator to bed at the perfectly reasonable hour of 9 p.m., The Fiance and I heard a little pitter patter of feet upstairs. And then a little pitter patter of feet coming down the hallway. And then a little pitter patter of feet coming down the stairs. And then a little voice going, "Mommy? Mommy? MOMMY? MOMMY!?! ARE YOU DOWN THERE? WATCHA DOIN?"
On the one hand, how can you be mad at a little girl who looks so fucking cute in her little nightgown?
But, on the other hand, it was the start to a new stage that I knew would lead no where good (By that, I mean, for the past few nights, it's always the little pitter patter of feet LEADING downstairs, after we put her to bed. Sometimes TWICE!)
The only way to get over this, I think, is to buy her some more nighties. I mean, my god, she looks so cute in them, it's impossible to get mad at her for not staying in bed and ending back up on my lap.
That's the right answer for all of this, right?