Boone:
Mommy, are you okay?

My Wife:
No, Boone. I'm a little frustrated.

Boone:
Oh. What did Wyatt do?

Wyatt:
If you push this button, the lights change color.

Boone:
Huh. How clever.

Me:
Guys!

Boone:
What?

Me:
It's 10 o'clock at night. Go to sleep!

Wyatt:
Well, I can't sleep with you yelling at me like that.

Me:
You should not be out of bed.

Boone:
If you didn't want us wandering around, you shouldn't have given us these new beds.

Wyatt:
Yeah, the whole room beckons us to play.

Me:
The whole... Get in bed!

Boone:
Dude, chill out. So, we're not sleeping. What's the big deal?

Me:
I don't want you to learn bad sleeping habits.

Wyatt:
Like coming in here and yelling at us is a good habit.

Me:
Bed! Now!

Boone:
Calm down, Atilla.

Wyatt:
Fine. We're in bed. How about dialing it back a bit?

Me:
Thank you. Now, go to sleep.

Boone:
That's not going to happen.

Me:
What? Why?

Wyatt:
We were all relaxed until you came in here shouting.

Boone:
Want to play with the Legos, Wyatt?

Wyatt:
Wait until Papa leaves.

Boone:
Oh, right... Goodnight, Papa.

Wyatt:
I want a waffle.

Me:
Ask nicely.

Boone:
Manners, dude.

Wyatt:
Man, really?

Me:
Yes.

Wyatt:
Can I have a waffle, please?

Boone:
I second that emotion.

Me:
Boone, nicely.

Boone:
Please.

Me:
Okay. Coming right up.

Wyatt:
I want Mama to get it.

Me:
She's in the shower. I'll get it for you.

Wyatt:
But, I want Mama to get it.

Boone:
Yeah. Me, too.

Me:
Do you want a waffle or not?

Wyatt:
Yes.

Me:
Then, I have to get it.

Wyatt:
No. No! NO!

Me:
Get off the floor, Wyatt.

Wyatt:
YOU get off the floor!

Me:
That doesn't even make sense.

Boone:
This just won't do. We need Mama to make the waffles.

Me:
Why?

Boone:
If you have to ask, you'll never understand.

Me:
What are you? Yoda?

Wyatt:
I WANT MAMA TO DO IT!

Me:
I'm making waffles. You can eat them or not. I don't care... Where's Wyatt?

Boone:
In the bedroom, flailing on the floor.

Me:
Jesus Christ.

Boone:
And you thought getting us to say please was the important part. Amateur.

Me:
Okay. Time to say goodnight.

Wyatt:
Goodnight.

Me:
Be a big boy and go to sleep.

Wyatt:
Okay. Goodnight.

Me:
Goodnight.

Wyatt:
Goodnight, Papa.

Me:
Close your eyes now. Time for bed.

Wyatt:
I don't want my blanket.

Me:
Then, take your blanket off.

Wyatt:
Okay.

Me:
Okay.

Wyatt:
Goodnight.

Me:
Goodnight.

Wyatt:
Goodnight.

Me:
Jesus Christ! Goodnight already.

Wyatt:
Goodnight.

Me:
Okay, guys. Here's how this is going to go down. I'm going to read two stories, then sing one song, then lights out.

Boone:
Sounds good.

Me:
Stories, song, then sleepy time.

Wyatt:
Dude, we got it. Jeez.

Me:
Lately, you guys really throw a fit at bedtime. So, I just want the routine to be clear.

Boone:
C'mon, man. The routine hasn't changed for, like, two years.

Wyatt:
We're not morons.

Me:
Then, why are you guys suddenly reacting like the end of the bedtime routine is a surprise.

Boone:
We're at a developmental stage in which we're finally making our own decisions. You ask us what shirt we want to wear or what we want for dinner or what show we want to watch and we get to decide. That kind of participation is a new and wonderful thing for us. We're establishing our own identities—our likes and dislikes. We're exploring the world around us and realizing each choice we make, no matter how mundane, serves as a deeper interaction with the world.

Wyatt:
So, when you say, "Lights out," it's something we don't control. You step in and stomp all over that freedom we spent all day establishing. It sucks, man.

Me:
I never thought of it that way.

Boone:
So, you understand that explaining the bedtime routine isn't going to do any good.

Me:
Yes, I... Wait. What?

Wyatt:
We're still going to throw a fit.

Me:
Tonight?

Boone:
Every night.

Wyatt:
For a while, anyway.

Me:
How long is "a while?"

Boone:
Could be up to a year.

Me:
Hold on, now.

Wyatt:
You stomp on our freedom, dude.

Me:
I don't stomp on—

Wyatt:
No more! ¡Viva la revolución! Arab Spring!

Me:
It's just bedtime. Everybody has a bedtime.

Boone:
We'll see about that.

Wyatt:
Attica! Attica! Attica!

Boone:
WAAAAAAAAAA!

Me:
Boone, what's wrong? Are you okay?

Boone:
Tears and screams generally indicate the opposite of okay!

Me:
What happened?

Boone:
Can't talk. Crying. WAAAAAAA!

Me:
Wyatt, what happened?

Wyatt:
I hit him with this truck.

Boone:
It's true. WAAAAAAAA!

Me:
Holy crap, Wyatt! That's a big truck.

Wyatt:
I know. It was hard to lift.

Me:
Why did you do that?

Wyatt:
Huh... That's a good question.

Me:
Well, there had to be a reason.

Wyatt:
Nothing really comes to mind right now.

Boone:
This is a jolly discussion, guys, but I'm bleeding here!

Me:
Oh, don't be so melodramatic. You're not bl... Jesus, you're bleeding.

Wyatt:
Ooh, let me see.

Me:
No. You sit right there. Boone, let me look at that.

Boone:
Ow, ow, ow...

Me:
It's just a little scrape.

Boone:
I'm dying. I see a bright light.

Me:
Okay, now you're being melodramatic.

Boone:
I'm crossing over into the great beyond. Is that my old dog Blue? Why, he died years ago.

Me:
C'mon, man. You never had a dog named Blue.

Boone:
Goodbye, dudes... I hear such beautiful music...

Wyatt:
He'll carry on like this for a while.

Me:
I know.

Wyatt:
Kind of annoying, huh?

Me:
Yeah.

Wyatt:
Want to hit him with the truck?

Me:
Wyatt!

Wyatt:
What?

Me:
Okay, guys. Time to cuddle and sing a song.

Boone:
Wait. Where's Mom?

Me:
She's out at a thing. It's just me tonight.

Wyatt:
What thing?

Me:
She's having drinks with some friends.

Boone:
But, Mom always does this part.

Me:
I'm doing it tonight. And she doesn't always do it. I've put you guys down by myself before.

Boone:
I want Mom!

Me:
It's been a long day. You're tired. If you don't want to cuddle and sing, I'll just put you to bed.

Boone:
MAMA! MAMA!

Me:
Whoa, okay. Bedtime.

Wyatt:
That's not fair.

Boone:
Yeah, you do this all the time. Any displeasure or disagreement we show at bedtime you chalk up to being tired.

Me:
Because you are.

Wyatt:
What if it's just normal disagreement?

Me:
That was not normal disagreement. That was zero-to-crazy in, like, three seconds.

Boone:
Fine. Put us to bed, but we're going to keep fussing and chattering for about an hour.

Me:
Guys, seriously—

Wyatt:
Maybe more.

Me:
You better not. I mean it.

Boone:
Oh, you should go to bed. You're clearly tired.