Would you look at that! It’s 4:30. Time for bed!
No, you can’t play in the bathtub because it takes 3 times as long and I have to mop up the floor after, resulting in washing 2 extra towels.
I already know the lotion makes a puddle in your belly button. You showed me yesterday.
You don’t have to lay them out. Just put the pajamas on.
Could you move any slower?
No, you can’t brush your own hair because then I have to untangle the tangles you make after I just washed tangles out.
I don’t want to read Berenstain Bears and The Messy Room again.
No, you can’t sound out the words. It takes for-ev-er.
Don’t tell me how it ends on page 2.
I don’t want you to hold the book.
We only need to pray once.
No, you can’t have another drink.
If you call my name one more time, so help me, I will lose my mind and run screaming from this house.
But I don’t say those things. Or if I do, I only say them in my head. What I say is that we need to be more careful and keep water in the tub, but I’m glad she had fun. I say the belly button lotion creation is cute because it is. I tell her I’m proud of how neatly the pajamas were laid out. I ask her to focus. I let her try to brush one part of her hair but I do the rest. I read The Messy Room, and I laugh when she wants to do the part where Papa yells “quiet.” I help her sound out as many words as she wants to try, and I let her hold the book. We pray as many times as she wants to because you never only need to pray once. I leave her a drink, make sure the fan and music are on, and I smother her with kisses.
And I have yet to run from the house. Ok, there was that one time, but I didn’t scream and I came right back.