The girls and I have decided to go shopping. Because there are two little children who need to be put to bed and their father will be at a Bull's basketball game, their mother is trying to convince her father (Tony/Grandpa) to put the four-year-old to bed.
"It's easy," she says.
I am driving and turn to Tony who's sitting in the passenger seat, "Children needing to be put to bed are like dogs; they can smell fear."
Our daughter continues, "All you need to do is brush his teeth, make sure he goes to the bathroom, say prayers, read a book, cuddle with him for five minutes, then lay down outside his door for ten minutes. That's all."
I'm practically choking on the humor, "That's all."
Tony joins my amusement and retorts to his daughter, "After ten minutes, he (the four-year-old), will come out of his room and ask where his mom is. Ten minutes later, we'll be making popcorn and watching a movie."
Supposedly our other grandchildren are easy to put to bed too, but Tony and I are rarely successful. Nap time rolls around. We quiver. We procrastinate. They sniff out our fear. They know we've lost our edge. One hour after attempted nap time, the little guys are out of their cribs tearing tissues out of a box.
Grandpa never actually agrees to putting the little guy to bed, but when he brings up the flavor and size of ice cream he'd like that night, we all take it as his concession to be the babysitter. Shopping is on!
Later that night, the baby is in bed by 6:30 and Mom starts putting the little guy to bed a half hour early. As instructed, Grandpa goes upstairs and lays by the door. Sweet, sweet guy~~especially after a jumbo cup of Andy's vanilla custard.