Not last night but the night before was a rather rough night for Alexander. There was a lot of screaming. He kept getting up and just screaming. Nothing in particular seemed to be wrong. He didn't need to go potty. He wasn't thirsty. He got to choose his favourite lullabies to listen to. He had his favourite bedtime things. The fan was blowing gently. It's wasn't too light or too dark. Everything should have been just fine but he just kept waking up and screaming. I think he really just wanted to climb into bed with me but also really wanted a sticker so was just torn over sleeping at all.
When it was finally morning I told him that if he pulled another stunt like that he wouldn't get a sticker. Like, neat-o that he "stayed in bed" all night but also a big part of staying in bed is not sneaking to the side of my bed and yelling in my face every twenty minutes. He agreed that was, perhaps, a little annoying and when I put him to bed last night he agreed that he wouldn't scream when he got up in the night.
And so, at around 3:30, I heard a gentle knocking on my bedroom door before it opened, just a crack.
"Mom," Alexander whispered. "I'm not screaming, but my hands have so many owies."
"What?" I asked groggily.
"My hands are covered in so many owies," he repeated, so I rolled out of bed and shuffled to the door to find Alexander covered head to toe in blood.
"Oh, baby," I said. "Your hands are fine but you've had a bloody nose!"
"Yeah," he said. "But woot at mine hands!"
"Yes, they're covered in blood, but the blood is all from your nose. Let's get you washed off. Do you want to see your face?"
He did not enjoy looking at his face in the mirror, not one bit.
We pulled off his pyjamas and gently washed off his face (and his arms and hands and feet). Then we examined his bed to see what was covered in blood (his owl-birdie blanket made by yours truly) and his pillowcase (which is red anyway, so no big deal). We picked out some fresh jammies and then I tucked him in and stayed by him for a while until he fell asleep and then I took his yucky pyjamas and blanket downstairs and treated them with spray'n'wash before finally climbing back into bed myself.
And, honestly, it was a more restful night than the night before had been, so we'll take it!
When it was finally morning I told him that if he pulled another stunt like that he wouldn't get a sticker. Like, neat-o that he "stayed in bed" all night but also a big part of staying in bed is not sneaking to the side of my bed and yelling in my face every twenty minutes. He agreed that was, perhaps, a little annoying and when I put him to bed last night he agreed that he wouldn't scream when he got up in the night.
And so, at around 3:30, I heard a gentle knocking on my bedroom door before it opened, just a crack.
"Mom," Alexander whispered. "I'm not screaming, but my hands have so many owies."
"What?" I asked groggily.
"My hands are covered in so many owies," he repeated, so I rolled out of bed and shuffled to the door to find Alexander covered head to toe in blood.
"Oh, baby," I said. "Your hands are fine but you've had a bloody nose!"
"Yeah," he said. "But woot at mine hands!"
"Yes, they're covered in blood, but the blood is all from your nose. Let's get you washed off. Do you want to see your face?"
He did not enjoy looking at his face in the mirror, not one bit.
We pulled off his pyjamas and gently washed off his face (and his arms and hands and feet). Then we examined his bed to see what was covered in blood (his owl-birdie blanket made by yours truly) and his pillowcase (which is red anyway, so no big deal). We picked out some fresh jammies and then I tucked him in and stayed by him for a while until he fell asleep and then I took his yucky pyjamas and blanket downstairs and treated them with spray'n'wash before finally climbing back into bed myself.
And, honestly, it was a more restful night than the night before had been, so we'll take it!
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