Finn likes to play a trick at bedtime. We go potty, brush teeth, read stories, sing songs, tuck-in, and Mommy in, and say our final good nights. At that point I head downstairs to unwind with a few minutes of television.
It’s fairly typical that within a few minutes I’ll hear a thump of small feet landing on the floor, and then the quiet tip-toe of a tiny body creeping down the stairs. Silently, he’ll sneak into the living room with a bashful smile, and exclamation of, “I’m not tired.” And a request to, “Watch a few minutes of TV with you.”
The other day I was watching the Toronto Raptors play the Golden State Warriors in the NBA finals. Finn ran his playbook and snuggled up next to me. He’s usually very picky on his programming requests, but he’s come to learn that pushing bedtime is the only luck worth pushing post-8 p.m.
After a few minutes I whispered to Finn, “Do you like watching basketball, buddy?”
“Well, not as much as I like watching Caillou,” he drowsily replied.