When did bedtime turn into an endless negotiation and a test of wills? (More)
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I am a 68-year-old grandmother of three. My two sons are in their late thirties. I don’t remember bedtime being some sort of endless negotiation. I have asked my sons but of course our memories are all old. My grandchildren are all about testing the limits.
“Can I have screen time Nana?”
This said by the oldest two who know on Tuesday all their spelling words for Friday. The two whose homework is up to date and whose backpacks are all ready for tomorrow and sitting by the front door. Yesterday I watched as my 7-year-old grandson got screen time before his stuff was in his backpack and he wasn’t ready to roll. He could not find his shoes. Duh! I learned from watching. If all your ducks are in a row (whatever that means) then screen time may be okay.
I am old school. Bedtime means time to go to sleep. I announce this and then watch as a need to fill up the water bottles and find excuses mushrooms. I stand firm. I get them all down in maybe 30 minutes. I have a sneaking suspicion that this is the same thirty minutes their parents experience.
I am old enough to think that going to bed is a wonderful thing. Yes to a nice pillow and a comfortable nest. Yes to relaxing for for the night. Yes to snuggling in with a good book and falling asleep with it on my face. Bedtime is wasted on the young.