The Bedtime Survivor’s Journal

Parenting is a harrowing expedition, never more so than when the lights go out.

Day 32: As the bedtime enters its second month, my provisions are dangerously low… The boy creature finally tired itself out with whinings for more songs and collapsed several days ago — or maybe it was weeks, i don’t know. But the girl creature shows no sign of quit. Its stamina is astounding. Not long ago it demanded “I wanna lie your belly,” and of course I had no strength left to resist…

As I weakly tap this futile record of my ordeal one-handed (the other arm being trapped beneath nearly 30 pounds of babbling, pajama-clad night harpy), I can’t help but think of the dear friends I will most likely never see again, and the wife whose face I’m already starting to forget. I’ve long since given up hope of rescue.

I can’t even reach my cup for the last few sips of lukewarm water that remain…. So parched!…

Wait! The girl creature’s wild mumbling slows. It has not elbowed me in the face in minutes. But no…I dare not think sleep approaches. I have been fooled too many times before.

Sleep. When they sleep, I admit there is no sweeter scene on earth. But that fact is poor solace to me now, and the irony is not lost on me that as the epic bedtime drags, I have traded hopes that they may see slumber for prayers that I might meet Death…