Bedtime is NeverTime

I tend to daydream a lot. Much to the chagrin of my wife, Jennifer, it's never about having more kids. I dream about my favorite thing to do. And, no, it's not sex. Sex is what got us into this mess in the first place. I daydream about a full night of uninterrupted sleep.

These daydreams come about the same time every day, so by rights, I should label the day the retching hour. Not to be confused, of course, with the witching hour. The coven can have that time slot. I also cast spells and borrow that label for an entirely different time of day. The witching hour was specifically reserved for when one of my daughters was a toddler and school-age and regularly experienced night terrors. At the darkest point of the night, she would transform into Regan MacNeil. Generally, that's when no one would dream. Though, her twin sister seems to be able to sleep through many of these unholy events. Bitch. That retching hour immediately follows dinner. It's when my kids have "saved," as they put it, their chores for after dinner. As though steak and potatoes with a Waldorf salad somehow energize the average human to want to increase activity after increased caloric intake. But, I'm trying to allow them to experience self-efficacy and self-management.

Apparently, a chore like hand-washing dishes that may take 20 minutes may also take an excruciating 45 minutes to complete. The place setting is for four people. Yes, we have a dishwasher. Sharing responsibilities and working together to complete the task in a timely manner is more important. We have modeled it for them. Over, and over, and over again.

The thing is, kids are not like sponges. They need to get drenched. See it over and over and have a chance to mop up similar experiences. Hopefully, grow before they repeatedly test the hypothesis that rolls of paper towels may not be as efficient as using individual towels to clean the tsunami of water presently on my kitchen floor.