William Willett — Your name blows and your ideas suck

Daylight Saving Time can kiss my ass. I hate it. I’ve always detested it, but it’s, oh, a gazillion trillion times worse when you have a kid. Do you know just how difficult it is to get a three-year old into bed when the sun’s barely setting? I’ll tell ya – in case you’re not yet blessed with a tiny tyrant of your very own: You might as well tell him to eat broccoli or ask him to please vacate the half-bathroom while you go pooper. Ain’t gonna happen.

Kaiser goes to bed at 7. Well, he did go to bed every night at seven. Until this DST bollocks. Most nights he dutifully brushed his teeth without much fight, hopped into bed for some stories. Yada, yada. Lights out. Classical baby CD on. Seriously. The easiest kid I’ve ever heard of, as far as sleep.

Sunday night was OK; Jed was home. We let the kid stay up a little later. It was plenty dark by the time the last book was read and the Humpty Dumpty lamp dimmed.

Monday night is not OK; Jed’s not home and I am well ready for the kid to go down. He eats his last Goldfish at 6:58 and we head upstairs with a train. Brush teeth, no problem. One book turns into two, then three. I don’t mind. It’s nice. Quiet. I close the Belly Button Book and turn out the light. The room remains bright. Like it’s 4pm. I know this isn’t good.

Kaiser sits back up, train clutched in his fist. He looks at me questioningly, “Mommy, the sun no go to bed.”

“The sun’s going to bed now.”

No, no it’s not. I wish we’d put up the curtains in his room.

“Mommy, it daytime?”

“No Cole, it’s bedtime. The sun’s going down later now. See some guy called Benjamin Franklin…” I mumble. (Actually William Willett is the douche that came up with the concept in 1905, but that’s neither here nor there.)

“It’s bedtime now.” I gently push him back down and pull his covers up. Hand him a train and lean down to kiss his head.

Kaiser ducks, weaves and jumps from the bed. Fastest I’ve ever seen the kid move. And I froze, because I’ve never, ever seen him get out of bed before. It was like a friggin‘ miracle. At least he knows how to get down, right? Sorta. He shrieks wildly and runs, hands waving from the room. He takes a right, toward my bedroom and tosses his green train over the balcony. It bounces down the stairs and thuds on the wood floor.

“I no go to bed!” A final shriek, then perfect silence.

Shit. I sit on the edge of his bed and think. OK, I’m smarter. Mmmm….That’s questionable. Alright, well, I’m bigger. What’s the best way to handle this? Drag him, kicking and biting, back to his room? Reason with him? Wickipedia Daylight Saving Time and hand him a printout? Shit.

I give it a minute. Maybe he’ll get lonely? Nope. I walk slowly down the hall, no strategy in mind. Kaiser’s in my bed, completely under the covers. His little body moves as he scoots down toward the bottom of the bed.

“Cole?”

“I hidin’, Mommy. You no see me.” The lump moves wildly under the red duvet.

“Cole.” I walk to the far side of the bed and tap his head through the covers.

“I hidin’” (Bitch)

“Cole, either you walk to bed like a big boy or I’m gonna carry you.”

“I is HIDING.”

Ok, Mister, you come out and get in your bed or I’m going to spank you.”

I really, really hate popping him, but you bet your ass I’ll resort to it in a time like this. I will. I might.

He shoves the covers down and crawls up, hair on end. He glares at me. “Spank me den, mommy. I no go to bed.”

Shit.

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3 Comments

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3 responses to “William Willett — Your name blows and your ideas suck

  1. Steph

    You know, I have to say – this made me feel less alone because my kids? JUST LIKE THIS. They don’t give a rat’s tochis about spankings. They just don’t. And I’m too nice to actually beat them. Dammit.

  2. Sara Fraser

    Weirdo kids. I lived in fear of the spanking.

  3. The Queen

    I remember the days when I Dad used to get the belt out and I would break down instantly. I haven’t had to start spanking just yet b/c the ‘time out’ is working for the moment. Oh, I know it’s coming…lol

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