Of Bedtime Blues In White House

Our Hero takes matters into his own hands.  Notice that he brought all his friends with him--and also Clara's purple walls!

Fans, we are coming to you tonight from the home computer which was hooked up tonight and which, together with the desk, live at the top of the stairs tucked into a desk-sized nook.  The bambini are tucked into their respective rooms.  You read that right, Fans.  A new era has dawned and it did so with rather little fanfare, probably because although the bambini spent their first few nights in White House* in separate rooms, they were soon enough in the same room while the floor in Clara's room was redone.**  Clara reprised her award-winning The Late Nite Bedtime Bearcat Show Staring Birdie Bearcat; tempers and patience were both short.  She moved into her room for good Wednesday last and the Bearcat has bounded off into the night.

But all is not yet quiet on the bedtime front.  White House is a bit larger than Raleigh House, and the bambini's bedrooms are not on the same floor as where the rooms in which the majority of the living is done.  It's a bit much for Our Hero.  He does not like to be upstairs by himself.  He has a (fabulous) new orange lamp, and we've found his books and put them on the shelves in his room.  The lamp stays on at night and he knows he can look at his books.  He can, of course, listen for the noises.

The first few nights, Joe kept appearing downstairs.  When asked what else he thought might help, he told us we could be louder.  He also suggested that every night be a family dinner night, but that was only because he was under the mistaken impression that the entire household would then retire upstairs at 7:30pm.  One night he told Julie that he wished he was a grown-up.  When Julie asked why, he told her so he could stay up late (read: not have to be upstairs by himself at bedtime).  Julie told him that she sometimes wished she was a little kid so she could take a nap every day.  Joe smiled a very little smile.  One night, he took matters into his own hands and got into Clara's bed.  She transferred herself to the big bed in the middle of the night and, at some point, Joe fell out of her bed onto the floor (and did not wake up).

Julie feels Our Hero on this one.  She was long afraid of The Dark and still, if Ted is not home, will sleep with numerous lights on (and when she does, she thinks, "I am a grown-up!  I can sleep with the lights on!"  She doesn't think too much about the irony.).  So she feels you have to respect the fear, but also feels that respecting it does not extend to forgoing sleep.  Our Hero cannot still be up at 10pm or we'll have a new bearcat on our hands.

But we may have hit on a winning strategy, rather by chance.  Last night, after the bambini were tucked in, Julie stayed upstairs and pattered about putting away this and that.  Early on, Joe asked if she could sing.  So she did: My Favorite Things, Moon River, Tonight, and I Feel Pretty.  Joe was asleep within half an hour.  She had grand plans tonight for a Sinatra medley, but Joe wanted Christmas songs.

All is not yet calm, nor is it bright, but we're getting there.  In the meantime, we have the orange lamp, books, and singing, and we are endeavoring to be noisier.

*We live on 39th Street; 39th House lacks a certain flow.  The house is white.  White House has a ring to it.  Yes, we're certain we've heard it somewhere before.

**Laminate covered faux wood linoleum that featured cantering evergreen colored ponies at regular intervals (very rustic chic) over Douglas fir.  We're back down to the Douglas fir.

Second to last night in Raleigh House, where Clara always piled into Joe's bed, never the other way round.