Bedtime for the youngest citizens of the Madhouse is set for 9:30pm. We have a routine in place, that we usually follow (usually in this sense means when I remember to enforce the routine). That routine is as follows:
8:30pm – screens off, get jammies on, have snack, brush teeth, wash face, go pee
9:00pm – in bed, reading or listening to audiobooks, but nothing with a screen
9:30pm – lights out
I think this is a very reasonable routine. Nothing out of the ordinary. Should be easy enough to follow. Should is a very key word in that last sentence. My beautiful daughter, the one who bears such a striking resemblance to me (unfortunately she inherited my over-sized feet and shall we say witty-turn-of-phrase along with my big hazel eyes), likes to take an extremely long time getting ready for bed. I mean, a really, really, really loooooong time as in 60 plus minutes to put on a pair of pjs, brush her hair and teeth and crawl under the covers.
Tonight was no exception. She’d been in the bathroom for about half-an-hour when nature called me to utilize the facilities. I gently knocked on the bathroom door and opened it a smidgen and what did I see? My daughter on the throne. She’d been sitting on the toilet for over half-an-hour playing games on her iPod. I asked her to finish her business so I could make use of her “chair”.
I shut the door, waited another 5 minutes and opened the door. I must have startled her because she jumped and dropped her iPod in the toilet. Guess who got to fish it out? Wipe it off with disinfectant wipes? And check to make sure nothing had gotten inside the workings?
If you said Rian, you were wrong.