Whose Kid is This?

 I think I read somewhere that having a routine makes bedtime easier.  Smoother.  Less drama.

I want to find that book and say poo-pah to that one.  Write a snippy little comment in the margin for others who would be so easily misled....

Here's what it has come to: Routine can morph into sacred ritual.  And a sacred ritual is not something you want to get wrong.  Not even a small detail.

I can understand having the same elements of the routine, and in the same order.  So we do.  

But last night when Landon got increasingly hysterical about his pillow, I was at a complete loss.  He was not crying the "I'm overtired and just need a few minutes to cry it out and then I'll be ok" cry.  This sounded more like, "There are snakes in this bed biting me and you are cruel and unusual to leave me in here with them."

Very strange.

So I break one of my general rules and go back in to see why he's not settling down.  My Hardy-boy- reading beloved joins me to help solve this puzzle.

And because BILL has some pretty set bedtime routines of his own, he DOES.
He takes Landon's pillow, and returns with the right color pillowcase on it.  NOW it is Landon's pillow.  NOW he can start in with the "I'm really overtired" cry.

If I had not seen this transformation myself, I'd be hard pressed to believe it.  I went to bed asking myself, Really?!  My baby is that caught up in his pillow?

I snuggled into bed, because the whole thing had worn me out.  I lay down on my own pillow, the one that has literally traveled around the world with me,
the one that probably smells unusual to anyone but me,
the one that is a running joke between Bill and I because I call him a Saboteur of my Happiness if he even gets close to it---
and I had to smile.
Yep, I guess he really could be that into his pillow.

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Landon loves grapefruit.  He eats them with baby-bird enthusiasm--eagerly opening wide for each bite we scrape out for him.  He likes it when we squeeze the extra juice into his sippy cup.  And he'll drink it all.  I don't think he has ever turned down an offer to share a grapefruit with daddy.  I don't think I've ever accepted the offer.  It's just one of their things.

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On any given night, Bill and I will close out the day with reading.  We're nerds like that.  We both genuinely enjoy reading, and always have something going.  I bring home movies from the library, but we never watch them.  With our limited time, the movies generally get crowded out for the greater pleasure of reading.  Plus, screen time doesn't help me fall asleep, but a poorly written children's novel can work wonders.

Landon, on the other hand, is still trying to decide where his loyalties are.  He will occasionally knock on the closet that houses the tv and ask, "moo-ee?  moo-ee?"  I admire his random efforts.
So one day I asked him, "Okay, Landon, what would you rather do?  Read stories or watch a movie?"

I can tell you, he melted his librarian mama's heart when he said, "Read sories!" and then "Yap" as he chose a book and plopped into my lap.

This is our son, alright.  Oddly quirky, grapefruit-eating, book-lovin' little boy.

Discovering him is more interesting than anything I've ever done.