I took Evie up to bed this evening and as I do every night, I sang "you are my sunshine" to her, a song that was sung to me as a child. We sang together, we gave each other hugs and kisses, I arranged her blanket(s- she has 3 she likes to rotate through the night) and I tucked her in.
Immediately, upon laying her down on her little toddler-sized pillow, she declared "I don't want it."
I responded, "I know, but it's bed time, and you are tired, so lay down please."
She laid down on her back, head on the little pillow I made for her, and then stuck her feet straight up in the air, to block any blanket tucking.
I looked at her and decided not to engage. Instead, I held up her soft pink blanket, which is silky on one side; we call it her "silky."
"Do you want your silky?" I asked.
With a thumb firmly set in her teeth, she grunted, "nuh, uh."
I held up her real quilt as well as a crocheted blanket which she usually just hugs all night:
"Do you want your blanket?"
Evie: "nuh uh"
Me: "Ok, suit yourself, I love you." I stroked the hair out of her face, gave her a kiss on her forehead and laid her blankie next to her at arms reach, in case she changed her mind once I left the room.
She immediately started crying, and once I closed the door I could hear the thud, thud, thud of blankets and stuffed animals being thrown overboard, as she systematically declared "I. Don't. Want. It!"
I waited a few minutes, and then opened her door, she was standing there, in a barren bed, beginning to strip.
The second the door opened however, she dove face-first into the mattress, and went limp, as if to try to fool me into thinking she was asleep. Her pajama shirt was un-buttoned, one leg was already out of her pants, but there she was, still and silent, pretending she was asleep.
As I looked at my not-yet 2 year-old daughter, "playing possum" in her bed, blanket strewn across the floor, pillow thrown across the room, I laughed to myself and remembered my own childhood, trying as hard as possible to stay up later than allowed. My mother would inevitably come storming in to lay down the law, and each and every time she would turn the knob of my door, I would dive under the covers and pretend I was asleep.
She never bought it obviously, and yet I always tried.
And then tonight, history has repeated itself. I have become my mother and my daughter has well, apparently our looks aren't the only thing we have in common.
As I put her jammies back on, and told her to lay back down and go to sleep, I contemplated what the next week, the next month and the next 16 years are going to bring.
What's scary? She's not even two yet.
