A Bird Did It and Other Lies

One of my sisters, who shall remain nameless, has started teasing Turbo during dinners. We're not usually lucky enough to have extra family at dinner time, but in the past two weeks we've seen Auntie ----- twice.  Yeah!

During both meals my sister has stolen food off Turbo's plate and blamed it on a bird. The first time (at our home), Turbo noticed quickly when a tortilla chip went missing from his plate and looked suspiciously at his Aunt as she was the only other human at the table.

Aunt: "A bird ate it. You should watch out for those birds."

Turbo looked toward the ceiling and my sister did a great job of convincing Turbo that the bird was just out of sight, but to keep trying.

Not the actual bird.

Last Saturday we had dinner at Red Hook Brewery to get out of the house after a long, snow-bound week and my sister and brother-in-law joined us there. It was crowded and loud and perfect.

Smiley was pushing herself passed her bed time as the meal wound down, but mostly she was delightful as she poured quinoa and broccolini in her mouth and down her shirt and all over that messy high chair.

Turbo doesn't eat quite as well as Smiley. In fact, to avoid a fight we ordered him two side dishes: bacon and tortilla chips. Turbo was thrilled and not interested in sharing.

But my sister had different ideas. While I was wrapped up with cutting broccoli for Smiley my sister was at it again, teasing Turbo about some bird stealing his chips.

I only caught on when I realized my husband was in on it too. They even started whistling when Turbo was looking away and saying things like, "Did you hear that bird?" A wide-eyed Turbo was looking around, eagerly trying to find the non-existent bird.

At a hilarious turning point, Turbo looked alarmed and took action to protect his plate of food. While still searching for the bird, Turbo slowly took his plate and began to hide it under the table. The whole table burst out laughing and I was lucky enough to catch this moment so I could stop the plate from spilling out on the floor - although, to be honest, he had a pretty tight grip.

Turbo was a little confused by the laughter. I think he took the food theft situation very seriously. Bless his cute little heart.

I did the only thing a mom could do. I made an attempt to save him.  I pulled out my cell phone and called the bird and relayed the message to Turbo that the bird was now bothering some poor little kid at a table across the room. He bought it.

The bird made an appearance at our home again last night.

Turbo was playing with a little flashlight and accidentally pulled the top part of it off, leaving one piece of the flashlight in each hand.

Me: "Uh oh. What happened?"

Turbo: "A bird did it. It's the bird's fault."

Oh boy. Get ready for some fantastic fibbing, people.

So Busted

Turbo and Smiley each require different methods for falling asleep at night.

Smiley is tired at 6 PM, and so when I bring her, all jammied-up, to their room at night, she all but dives into her crib and snuggles in for a long night of, usually, uninterrupted sleep. I barely get to snuggle with her. (A-hem, except for last night, when I gave up trying to get her back to sleep and brought her into our bed around 11:30 PM).

Turbo, on the other hand, has always wanted to sleep next to me. I guess I should be flattered, and I've mostly loved it. He gets into bed around 8:30 PM, and while we've had some success off and on for him to fall asleep on his own, it really seems to work better if one of us in snuggled in his bed with him.

Turbo is 3 years old now. It took a very, very, very, very long time for this kid to sleep on his own through the night. And it took an even longer time (forever +1?) for him to be able to fall asleep quickly.

But we're there. And I'm grateful.

I think I've mentioned it before that I sometimes tell little fibs to Turbo, finding an excuse to exit his warm, snuggly bed before he's completely asleep, and then he graciously falls asleep on his own without my help. I love those nights, as I am able to leave his room before I get all bleary-eyed myself and can't do anything for my "me time" except to fall face first into my own bed.

Last week, I thought I'd pulled it off again. Not so fast, mom. Here is the replay:

[in Turbo's bed]
Me: "I forgot to brush my teeth. I'll be right back."

Turbo: "And then you'll come and sleep in my bed?"

Me: "Uh-huh." And I exit, feeling confident and sure of myself.

Ten minutes later, I'm in front of my computer, browsing Facebook or window-shopping online, when I catch a glimpse of Turbo out of the corner of my eye, coming at me, rubbing his eyes.

"Mom, it's wake up time?"

Erm, um, quickly scramble for an excuse and get back into bed with him.

Sweet Little Lies

There is a scene in Sleepless in Seattle where Meg Ryan is on a plane sitting next to one of the Ephron sisters (the screenwriters), and So-and-So Ephron observes that Meg's character looks anguished over something.

Ephron says, "Don't you hate flying?" To which Meg replies, "Yes, and I just told the most awful one to the man I'm about to marry. Do you think any lie is a betrayal?"

I'm contemplating this question as I realize I'm in a pattern of telling Turbo little white lies. I believe they are all for the greater good, usually for better sleep, and yet I think part of me does feel a little guilty. Or maybe not. I'm sure it's not the last time I'll have to fib to my kids. They don't get to know all the secrets this young, do they? Santa, anyone?

For example, the lie I seem to be saying these days is, "I'll be right back." It goes a little something like this.

Middle of the night cries from Turbo, "Mommyyyyyyyyyyy. Mommyyyyyyyyy!"

I quietly enter Turbo's room (which he shares with Smiley, by the way... tricky), and soothe him back to  what I think is full-on sleep and as I'm trying to creep slowing out of the room, he cries out again, "Mommyyyy. Come my bed."

Now, I could repeat all my magical soothing work, which I've done countless times over the nearly 3 years he's been in our lives, but instead I tiptoe back to his bed, lean down to kiss him, smooth the wispy hair from his forehead and whisper:

"Mommy has to go potty, Turbo. I'll be right back."

or

"Mommy has to take out her contacts. I'll be right back. You wait here."

And it works pretty much every time. He believes I'm coming back, so it settles him and I don't have to stick around for the (potentially) really long haul where I sometimes fall asleep myself in an uncomfortable, squashed-in-a-twin-bed position.

But, luckily, he's a great sleeper now so this doesn't even happen that often. I wish I could go back to the mom I was when Turbo was 8 months old and reassure myself that his awful sleep habits would not last. Sometimes I miss those late night snuggles with 8-month-old Turbo.

Luckily, I have another one. And she's a great snuggle buddy.