Tales of a Night Crawler

We strictly enforce bedtime in our house.  Our routine is set and we don't get very many complaints from the kids.  My husband and I enjoy our time between the kids' bedtime and ours, so we don't put up with much nonsense.

Lately, however, I've discovered that our littlest one has had us fooled for quite some time.  Since breaking her of her pacifier habit last year, we thought she had been fine.  Sleeping in her big girl bed in her room upstairs and only coming down in the morning.

Then, a few months ago, I went up to check on the kids before heading to bed myself.  I peeked into my daughter's room, but couldn't find her.  I looked in the boys' room, but didn't see her there, either.  Back into her room.  Nothing.  Trying not to panic, I told my husband I couldn't find her.  We both went upstairs and turned on lights.  It honestly took a good three minutes before I noticed a lump on the floor.  She was smushed up against the side of my son's bed, on top of a pile of stuffed animals, covered entirely with a corner of his comforter, half hanging off his bed.  We laughed and tucked her in, but left her there since we thought it was so cute.

A couple of nights later, however, it hit us that this was becoming a nightly routine for her.  We made sure to clear the floor in the boys' room every night so she couldn't find anything soft enough for a bed.  If we did catch her in there, we'd make her return to her own room.

Last night, I heard footsteps around 10 p.m., so I went up to check.  Sure enough, there was my daughter, on her knees next to her oldest brother's bed. She was slowly pulling his comforter off the foot of his bed to wrap around her.  As soon as I whispered her name, she jumped up and flashed me her impish grin.  I walked her back to her room and tucked her in.

Tonight, I wanted to remind her to stay in her own room, so we talked about it. Rather, I talked and she cried.

"Allie, you're going to sleep in your own room tonight, right?" 

"Are the brothers still downstairs?" she asked.

"Yes.  They're still downstairs now, but they'll go to bed soon, too."

"Can I go in there after they go to bed?" she said, flashing me her huge, brown, puppy-dog eyes.

"No, sweetie.  That's what I'm saying.  You need to stay in your room all night."

Her lip trembled into a sad little frown and the whimpering began.

"Noooooo.  I don't WANT to!"

"Why not, honey?  Why don't you want to stay in your room?" I asked, trying to get to the bottom of the issue.

She started sobbing full on, very real, very sad tears.  I could tell she was trying not to cry, but couldn't hold the tears back.  

"Allie, why do you go in there?  They're already asleep by then.  Why do you want to?"

Through sniffling and sobs, she answered, "Because I LOVE them!!"

I had nothing.  Either she is the most brilliant three-year-old manipulator in the world, (which is entirely possible), or I just heard the sweetest, most innocent, pure reasoning ever.

I picked up as many pieces of my shattered Monster-Mommy heart as I could, then kissed her good-night.  A little while later, I brought the boys up to bed. After their bedtime story, my oldest asked me what I was doing.

"I'm pulling out your trundle bed in case your sister sneaks in here tonight."

I'm a sucker.  I know it.  All I can hope is that this doesn't lead to a future of her manipulating me.  For now though, I've made my bed, and I'll lie in it.  Or, I guess she will.