Most of my friends have, by now, heard this hilarious tale. But it’s so funny and so precious that I just had to post it.
The other night, as on most nights, DD1 was not in the mood for going to bed. What had been a long day was turning into a long night, and I was desperately trying to get the kids asleep so I could get some time to myself. Daddy was out of town, and I was starting to feel a little claustrophobic. In our darkened bedroom, I nursed DD2 into a calm and relaxed almost-sleepy state. DD1, unfortunately, was neither calm nor relaxed.
DD1 was fidgety. This doesn’t really bother me, as long as she doesn’t touch her sister or make a lot of noise to wake her up. But instead of gradually winding down, she was getting wound up, and I felt helpless to stop it while trying to care for my younger babe. My frustration boiled over when DD1 jolted her sister out of a doze. She was literally bouncing all over the bed, yelling and carrying on to beat several bands. I snapped angrily at her.
“Get into bed. GET! GET INTO BED NOW!!!” I shouted in a not-so-composed voice.
DD1 froze. Then she burst into tears. She meekly put her head down on the pillow, sobbing quietly. She cried to herself for a minute. I fumed, alternating between being angry with her and upset with myself for losing it.
Then she slowly got up, mumbling softly to herself.
“What did you say? Where are you going??” I whisper-shouted at her.
She left the bedroom, either not hearing or chosing to ignore me. I heard her pad down the hall and into the kitchen. A drawer opened, closed, and then I heard her bare feet coming back to the bedroom.
She climbed back into bed, a dishtowel in her little hand. Between sobs, she repeated herself.
“I had to get something to wipe away my tears!”