Tales from Bedtime

In order to curb the bedtime battle that was ensuing with Owen resulting in screams, cries and bottles of wine (all me), we decided a few months ago that after John read him stories, I would climb into bed with him until he was sleepy. It works great, usually by Owen’s third yawn I can head out of his room and he falls into a peaceful slumber. Because of this, Owen and I have been conversing while he tires. Two evenings ago, the following transpired:

Owen: “My head is itchy.” “Its soooooo itchy.” Scratching head.
Me: “You want me to scratch it?”
Owen: “Yep.”
Me: Scratching head. “What happened?”
Owen: “I hit my head.” “Its so itchy.”
Me: “How did you hit your head?”
Owen: “Maggie did it.”
Me: “I though you said you hit it.”
Owen: Silence.
Me: “You okay?”
Owen: “Mummy my eyes are itchy.” “Soooooooo itchy.”
Me: “Well, itch them.”
Owen: “No Mummy, you do it.” “I close my eyes and you itch them five times each.”
Me: “You are insane.” But yet itching his eyes, five times each in concentric circles.
Owen: “Thank you Mummy.”
Me: “You are welcome.”
Owen: “Let’s go to sleep.”
Me: “Okay.”
Owen: “Let’s cuddle.”
Me: “Okay.” (heart melting).

To be continued under Conversation With a Four Year Old: Your Window Into Insanity.