Bedtime: Never the Right Time

My kids are supposed to go to bed at 8 p.m. By that time, they're tired, I'm tired, Justin is tired. And several prime time dramas begin that are difficult to explain to children.

But in the summer, late sunsets conspire against us as we try our usual routine.

"It's very late," I say.

"Almost midnight," Justin says.

"Why is it still light out?" Richie asks.

They want to catch fireflies, work up a sweat after their bath, shoot the mosquitos off each other with giant water guns.

I give in a lot.

For instance, the other night, the kids were watching a movie at night when their cousins were over. At 10 p.m. I told them it was time for bed. We needed to shut off the movie.

Johnny asked, "Why can't we just live our dreams?"

And I thought, yeah, why can't you just live your dreams? That's a good question. I let them watch a little bit more of Babe: Pig in the City, since that was his goal in life, apparently.

Then there's Richie, who sneaks out of bed and hides behind the couch. Johnny will come running into the living room and Richie will appear out of nowhere, doing a little jig. Then I let them watch Treasure Hunters or some T.V. show. This allows me to do a running commentary on the show for their benefit, since Justin, for some reason, doesn't appreciate when I do this.

Finally, J.J. He's so determined not to fall asleep that he often dozes off sitting Indian-style with a chubby cheek pressed against the bars of his crib. Of course, I have to take a picture of that, not realizing that the flash will be like disco lights in his eyes and wake him up.

So summer bedtimes present a new challenge. But the good news is, it's 7:30 a.m. and two of my kids are still asleep. I guess I can live my dream of having my children sleep past the crack of dawn.