“Mommy, can you come upstairs and talk about my day?”
This is Eliott’s new favorite thing to do. John does the bed and bath routine every single night now, because by five o’clock, I really need to punch out of mommy duty for the day. But just before she’s settled in and the lights are out, she comes to the top of the stairs and asks this question. Every single night, as if I have a choice. We’ve been doing it for several months now, and though I’m wise to the fact that it is a five-year old plot to stay up a little bit later at night, at the same time, I will keep it going as long as I possibly can. Obviously. When she doesn’t want to go to bed, the girl divulges secrets like I’m the diary she doesn’t know how to write in yet.
The other night, after two days of sickness (thus, no pre-bed snuggle time with mommy) I finally had to cut her off and tell her it was time for me to go downstairs.
“Why, so you and Daddy can watch your movie?” She asked.
“Actually, no, so Daddy and I can read our book,” I answered, truthfully. We read the first and second of The Hunger Games trilogy alone, and I finished them first. Unlike me, John gets really annoyed at having parts of a book spoiled. I hated not being able to discuss it with him as I was digesting it myself, so I suggested that we read the third book together. (This might be why after flying through the first two, the third book feels never ending.)
“Out LOUD? You and daddy read books out loud at the same time?” Eliott tries to wrap her mind around this phenomenon that she wrongly assumes is reserved for children’s bedtime alone.
“Well, we don’t both read out loud. I’m reading a book to Daddy, actually.”
To this, she answered, with a very resolute sense of pragmatism (and with her head slightly cocked to one side), “Oh. Because Daddy can’t read.”
Nevermind, Eliott. Go to bed.
I thought about it later that night though. We’ve probably reached a new level of dork with this latest nighttime entertainment. I guess it didn’t seem especially weird to me, at first, because we used to listen to books on CD together, pre-children, every time we took a road trip. I like being able to push pause in the middle of something and talk about it, or at least have someone to hear me make predictions, you know, so it means something when I turn out to be right.
Maybe we are freaks, or maybe we are just old people trapped in spry young bodies and the wrong generation.
Or maybe, we’re not alone.