The Growing Pile

Margaret’s bedtime demands are escalating.  I think that we maybe do need to limit the number of toys and books that she demands to sleep with, because I think there’s a serious risk that we’re going to have to put another bed in there just to hold all the stuff that she can’t sleep without.

Last night, after – as you may recall from my somewhat frantic post – a day without a nap, she was being particularly demanding.  The phrase “Margaret wants –” is not one I want to hear for a while.  At dinner, she kept saying “Margaret wants some of that,” only to be told that she had some on her blinking plate, because she had EVERYTHING, and besides that, she WAS NOT starving, because before anyone else had eaten their nice Thai food, she had horfed down an entire order of pot stickers. 

Anyway, it had been a long day, and Leo was out at some dinner, and bedtime was somewhat fraught.  First, she wailed that she needed her Corduroy bear, which was already in her bed, buried in the pile.  And then she said she needed Pooh, who was likewise in the pile.  And tempers were getting short, hers because she hadn’t had any sleep, and mine because she hadn’t had any sleep.  And I said that she needed to go to sleep, and I wasn’t going to come back into her room.  And then she did something that made me nearly die of the cute.

We’d read Winnie the Pooh for her bedtime story, and it was the one where Pooh and Piglet walk round and round and round worrying about the ever-increasing number of Woozles that are following them.  So Pooh and Piglet were certainly on her mind.  But the next time I heard her plaintive little voice, this is what it said: “Oh, oh, oh, oh, oh –” (in heartbreaking tones) “Pooh needs Piglet!”

So I got him.  Because we wouldn’t want Pooh to be sad at night, now would we?

But as I look at the picture, Pooh is actually hugging Tigger (left-hand side, on the edge).  Humph.