The Bedtime Dash

So…when Nick and I take Reuben to bed at night, we tuck him in, turn on his music, and say a prayer. As soon as we say amen, Reuben starts in on the questions to delay bedtime as long as possible.

A few nights ago, Nick high stepped out of Reuben’s room so he wasn’t the one left behind to answer the questions. Well, I wasn’t going to be caught in that trap again. During the prayer, I planned my escape. What I didn’t plan for was the random toys in my path that I couldn’t see since the light was off. We said amen and I took off in a dead sprint. The next several seconds consisted of me tripping, trying to recover, and eventually falling.

I started by laughing which quickly turned into tears. My knee hurt and my thoughts immediately turned to the fact that I probably just ruined my Bootcamp and running routine by trying to beat my husband out of Reuben’s room. (Dramatic much?!?)

Reuben got down out of bed (I’m sure he was thrilled by the opportunity to delay bedtime even further), crawled in my lap, and started very sweetly patting my back. He turned to Nick and said, “Daddy, I think Mommy needs an ice pack.” So, they went and got his monkey boo boo pack for my knee. I continued to sob.

Nick was starting to become concerned and asked, “Are you going to be okay? Did it really hurt that bad?” I assured him that I would survive, but I’ve been needing a good cry so I was just seizing the opportunity to let it all out.

The next thing I know, I felt a little tap on my shoulder and Reuben asks, “Here, Mommy. Do you need this?”

I look up and he’s handing me a plastic slice of chocolate cake from his play kitchen.

My response, “Yes. That is exactly what I need.”

At least plastic is calorie free.



Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s