Bedtime rituals

Each night before bed Isaac participates in the same parent-directed routine. At 9:00, it's time to head to the bedroom to read some stories. Almost always this means reading the same book, no matter how long, two or (if time permits) three times. If I am the reader, his pillow will be curled up vertically against his headboard so I can l lay against it and he, then, can lay against me, his big bony bean bag. After stories, we're off to the bathroom to potty and brush our teeth, followed by an elaborate rinse-and-spit song. Then we walk back to his room, he crawls into bed, and I pull up the covers and turn out the lights.

That's when the parent-directed routine gives way to a short dialog, the Isaac-directed routine. It's the same thing every night, always whispered, with his head down on the pillow looking away from me.

Isaac: Mommy, I can't see.
Mommy: Wait a second. [his nightlight changes colors and always starts at a very dim red. The next color, green, is as bright as a night light should be]
Isaac: Mommy, you say payers.
Mommy: [says prayers]
Isaac: Mommy, you sleep with me?
Mommy: Isaac, I would love to sleep with you, but I have to go do the laundry now. Sleep tight, buddy.
Isaac: Wait, Mommy! You forgot your big hug and kiss!

[exchange of big hug and kiss]

Mommy: Good night, buddy. I love you.
Isaac: Good night, mommy. Sweet dreams.