Here's a glimpse into my evenings. After dinner and baths comes bed time. Save for special occassions and some weekends, bed time is 8 o'clock. This has not changed. Ever. So, why it seems to come as a surprise to Victoria EVERY night, I will never know. We start with pouting and shouting "No!" and quickly escalate to lying on the floor and refusing to move. This usually evolves into threats of no tv, begging, bargaining, and finally picking her up and thrusting her into bed.
That is only the prelude to the main event. The next 2 hours are filled with poem recitations, songs, and even costume changes:
She comes out of her room a few times under the guise of wanting a blanket, stuffed animal, or the ultimate manipulation- a hug and kiss. She's a master of procrastination, putting even me to shame. After a while, she passes out and sleeps soundly through the night (unlike some younger siblings, who shall remain nameless).
As I type this, she's beginning hour 2 of stalling. I hear her talking to herself and rustling papers and toys. Her room is no doubt a disaster, yet some sick part of me will miss this tomorrow night when the kids are with their grandparents.