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The tyrant in footy pajamas

My sister is feeling much better after a fever spike and general unpleasantness associated with a C-section, her new daughter is beautiful, and her two year old daughter is terrifying. Ok, the last part is not precisely true. By not precisely true, I mean she's really 27 months old, not 24. She really is terrifying, at least in one respect. I shuddered in fear every time she stirred at night, and I heard every sigh and groan as I was on toddler duty and had her baby monitor. I felt sure another raging screaming fit was not far behind every twitch. She is a bedtime tyrant.

Her bed time ritual involves: bath, pajamas, kisses from my sister, three books in precisely the correct order--woe to the harried aunt who skips a page--a sippy of milk, a face massage while singing "Moon Moon Moon" by Laurie Berkner, and then about an hour of her gently pulling tiny hairs off of my right arm as she holds it while I sit awkwardly on the floor until she falls asleep. When she wakes up during the night, which she does at least twice, she gets another round of arm hair pulling ... and I get a stiff neck. Because if I were to say, sit on a comfortable chair across the room, where she could see but not touch me, this would turn her into a serial killer. No, I had to sit at an awkward angle so she could touch but not see me.

How my sister expects to sustain this ritual while nursing a new infant is beyond me. At nine months pregnant, she often fell asleep on the floor of her daughter's room while waiting for Her Tyrantness to start snoring. Sis says it could be worse, Her Tyrantness could still be crawling into Sis's bed every night.

As for me, I am happy to be home in my own bed. And I believe the post-traumatic stress dreams will fade in time.... If not, there is always booze.

Full post as published by Butterflyfish on December 26, 2008 (boomark / email).