"I had hooks."

Jack refuses to sleep in his own room so he sleeps in mine. I know, I know, I’ve created a monster. I know.

Anyway, every night we go through the same routine. He doesn’t want to go to bed, I desperately want/need sleep. Sam, like his mama, enjoys his shuteye and typically is in his own bed at least a full hour before I even attempt to get Jack to sleep. Bless that boy.

Meanwhile picture this: I have one-third (at most) of the left side of the bed. He’s taking up the rest with several special blankets, a giant stuffed fish, a manatee, two heffalumps, and a bug hand puppet.

TV off, lights off. And the comments begin. I try to ignore him. I’m onto his tactics. But you know how that goes. Last night was a classic. Here’s a replay:

(I switch the light off)
No, I can’t see!
I don’t want to sleep.
My leg is itchy.
(spends 2-3 minutes scratching leg, then kicking covers and rolling)
I’m sweaty.
I’m hot. I need a new shirt.
(I check, he’s sweaty; get up and get him a lighter shirt)
‘Tanks mom. (he settles down for about 4 seconds).
My mouth hurts.
It hurts, mom. Something in my mouth
(I get up, turn on light check, nothing)
I’m hungry.
I want more juicy.
Can I have more pretzels please?
I don’t like shadows.
My back is itchy.
I forgot to brush my teeth (he didn’t)
My arm is itchy.
My mouth hurts again.
Can you find my yellow socks?
Where are my yellow socks?
(Begins a one-sided conversation about socks, the missing yellow ones and the red ones he wears every night)
Mom, you forgot to brush your teeth (he’s right – I get up…)
My nose is stuffy.
I want to listen to the iPod (“I left it at work.”) No you didn’t. It’s in your car. (He’s right)
Please get iPod out of car.
I want music.
(sings to himself a little bit)
Where are the shadows now?
What was that? (“A car.”)
Will you scratch my back?
Oh! I forgot something! (“What did you forget?”) My baseball.
Please can I go downstairs and get my baseball (no).
You didn’t cut my nails. You cut Sammy’s nails.
I have hooks. (hangnails)
Please have cream on my arms. I’m itchy.
ME “Jack, come on. It’s bedtime. We’re all itchy. It’s winter and it’s dry outside. Let’s get some sleep.”
-- Pure silence for about 3 seconds – then:
Snow is melting. Melting. Melting.
ME “Come on buddy. It’s time for sleep.”
He mumbles something – and I get up, turn on the light.
ME “Do you know how many excuses you’ve given me to avoid going to sleep?”
(He stares wide eyed as I rattle off nearly everything he’s said for the past 25 minutes).
“…and then you wanted your baseball, and then…..” I stammer, trying to remember.
Without missing a beat (I kid you NOT), the boy – barely able to contain a giant smile – says:
“I had hooks.”

True story.