Toddler: Nighttime Independence

Leah, 3, now sleeps in her own bed. This is great, being more independent and all of that. To encourage this whole independence thing I've been trying to teach her the time.

Not "Hey, Daddy, it's ten to nine, get your ass out of bed!" time. More accurately, I've been trying to teach her Time Appropriacy: What Activity Is Appropriate At What Hour.

Finally, after using enough Ketamine
to sedate a horse, they got their
sleepy angel 'money shot'. 

I've seen those Toddler Alarm Clocks for sale in the UK/US or in countries where parents have everything, and they look quite cute, but I can't believe for a second they work. Everything for parents is marketed around sleep and relaxation, and how many parents have you met - ever - who have said: Oh, the first few months were tough for sure. But now, when he wakes up in the night, he just looks to see whether his little freakish sleeping space bunny clock is lit up like an acid trip, and now we don't hear another peep, do we?

Toddlers may still be illiterate, unable to do their shoes laces and a freakin' liability on transport, but there hasn't been an electrical gadget yet that they can't strip down and re-program into Spanish in an unguarded minute.

Dark = Sleepy Time
Light = Wakey Time

Doesn't seem too much to ask from someone who's picked up two languages quicker than I have. OK, it's winter and doesn't get light till around 9am, but you'd think she'd get the gist.

It's not working.

Last weekend, just after we'd had breakfast, we played a couple of jigsaw puzzles (I say 'we', I was watching the FA Cup Final), when Leah turned round and said, "I want bathtime with Mummy tonight" and trotted off to get herself changed.

If only that freaky redrum kid in
The Shining had a Toddler Alarm Clock.
Maybe it would have all ended well.

Moreover, she's become a night-time wanderer. Well, wanderer is a bit much. So far she either heads up to Maia's room where she starts reading her a story. Which Maia doesn't appreciate at the best of times, and definitely not at 217am.

Or, she sneaks in to our room and stands, silently, an eyebrows' breadth from my face and just, sort of waits... till I wake up.... with that strange sensation that something's not quite right before suddenty realising that a person is blinking into my eyes.

You know, the way the kid in The Shining would.