“Yeah,” they said, “we can handle that.”
“Rule one,” Jim said, “is that from eight o’clock on is private time for
your mom and me. We don’t want to see or hear you, but feel free to be
awake. Rule two: We all get up at six o’clock every morning. See you at
six o’clock.” He gave them each a little kiss and went back to the family
room.
At 10:30 p.m., the lights in both Jim’s kids’ rooms were still on.
Attempting to provide them with an admirable model to emulate, he
wandered into their rooms and said, “Well, I’m going to bed. I don’t want
to be grouchy in the morning. See you then.”
When he got up at six the next morning, the lights were still blazing
away. One child was sleeping with his clothes on; another had come to
rest in a sitting position in the corner. He then discovered another great
truth of parenting: It’s a lot easier to wake kids up than to put them to
sleep. Turning two radios up to front-row-rock-concert decibel level takes
hardly any energy at all.
Three bleary-eyed and moaning kids wandered around the house that
morning, rubbing their eyes and whining, “I’m too tired to go to school
today,” “I’m sick, Dad,” and “I want to go back to bed.”
Jim didn’t get angry with them. Instead, he felt genuine sadness for
their plight. “Well, for sure, kids,” he said, “that’s what happens to me,
too, when I stay up too late. I bet it’s going to be a long day at school.
Well, try to have as good a day as you possibly can, under the
circumstances. We’ll see you when you get home. Have a nice day.”
He watched them make their way to the bus stop. At 3:30 p.m., the bus
pulled up on the return trip, and from its door staggered six-year-old
Charlie, who wearily traipsed up the stairs and found his bed. There he
slept the rest of the afternoon with his baseball hat crunched down over
his nose, his heavy jacket still on, and his tundra boots laced up to his
knees.
At dinner that night, Charlie kept nodding off. However, before the
meal was over, he said a most intelligent thing: “I think I’ll go to bed
early.”
lu
(lu)
#1