wokkin'

liam's always been a champion sleeper. i cannot remember the last time we heard a peep out of him after we turned out the light and closed the door at 7:50 pm. susanna, on the other hand, has been a bit more challenging. i hate to complain, especially since i have friends whose children have real sleep issues ... but rarely do we have an evening where she goes down without at least a small whimper.

the other night, chris was single-parenting while i was at a meeting. about ten minutes after he had finished up bedtime with the kids and come downstairs, susanna started to wail. this time it was apparently at such a fevered pitch that he raced up there to see what in the world was going on -- was her hand stuck? had she gotten sick in the bed?

he opened the door to find her standing there in the dark, smoothing her hair out of her eyes. "i want to wok," she declared, very matter-of-factly.

chris: "what, honey?"

susanna: "i want to WOK."

chris: "you want to walk?", thinking that an upcoming march around the room might be in order.

susanna: "no, daddy!", exasperated. she then points to the rocker in the corner of her room. "I. WANT. TO. WOK."

i'm surprised susanna's pinky hasn't turned blue, the way she's got her daddy so tightly wound around her little finger. following his daughter's command, he sat in the rocker, placed her on his lap, and rocked. after a minute or so, she informed him, "i'm all done now," and then got down, plodded over to her bed, and climbed in.

this obvious stall tactic has now become a nightly ritual, but one we can live with. especially when we consider the fact that in ten years or so, "i want to rock!" is going to have an entirely different meaning.