Monster patrol

Will’s bedime rituals and night-waking problems are so ridiculous and complicated and problematic for us that I’ve been avoiding discussing the issue here for a good while. It’s probably the most obvious place where Rob and I feel like we’ve just mucked things up as parents.

I’m not going to bore you with the whole long story. But here’s evidence that Will’s weird when it comes to bedtime (and that we’re equally weird for complying with his requests):
We went through a little sleep program (courtesy of Marc Weissbluth’s book “Healthy Sleep Habits, Happy Child,”) that involved putting Will back in his bed every time he got up, even when it took dozens of repetitions (130-something was our record on our first night following the plan for treating "Jack-in-the-Box Syndrome"). Finally we resorted to locking the door for five minutes so Will could cry things out for a bit and then he would agree to be put in bed. Will got to the point of asking us to lock his door and then lying on the carpet beside the door so he could peer through the little crack down the hallway and (“see what you are doing”) until he fell asleep. Once we heard the deep breathing of sleep, Rob would gently push the door open, pick Will up and put him in bed. Until he woke up the next time that night.

Finally this week, we’ve made a deal with Will. If he will stay in bed, rather than fall asleep on the carpet, then Rob will stand guard outside the door for 10 minutes. He sits on a chair there, doing crosswords or napping – but so far no monsters, or cows or coyotes have made it past him. And so far Will is sleeping quite well. The guard-the-door trick is an idea borrowed from my dad, who used to sit outside my door guarding me from spiders when I was around Will’s age. Nighttime fearfulness runs in the family, and I remember being greatly comforted by having my dad as nightwatchman in the lighted hallway outside my door.

Now during the day Will’s started doing the same thing for his imaginary friends. He makes a bedroom out of our living room by lining both entrances to the room with cars that serve as the “gates” to the room, and then he parks his little chair beside one gate and reads a book.

“Dad, remember how you sit in the chair when I go to sleep?” he asks Rob. “I’m going to do that for Ally and Puff. I’m gong to make sure any monsters don’t get in.”

Problem is sometimes mom forgets (or chooses to ignore) that the living room is actually Ally and Puff's bedroom. And that gets me and Owen both in trouble.

“Ally and Puff, wake up!” Will shouts when I try to sit on the couch with Owen. “There’s a monster in the room. Go away monsters!” He is pointing at me and his brother too.

Truth is sometimes I do look and feel a little monstrous, after a couple days without a shower and who knows how many nights of broken sleep. But I try, no matter how exhausted I am, to be a friendly monster.