Staying in Bed: The Second Child

Serena wasn’t so into staying in her big-kid bed at first, but I managed to train her to stay in it.

Until we started potty-training — for the 3rd, and (thank goodness) final, time.

She figured out pretty darned fast that saying she had to go to the bathroom would get us to let her get out of bed. OK, you say, but that’s reasonable. We all get out of bed when we have to go to the bathroom. Yes, but for Serena, it meant, hey, this don’t-get-out-of-bed thing is not absolute! There are loopholes!

For example.

One afternoon, in the midst of potty training, Serena got up from her nap three times within ten minutes, to go to the bathroom. Sometimes she went, sometimes she didn’t, but of course I didn’t want to tell her she couldn’t, or make her go in her pull-up (how confusing would that be?), so I just let her go. Until the 3rd time, when instead I said, “OK, Serena, I think you’ve gone enough times now. Now it’s time for sleep.”

That same night, my husband was handling bedtime, while I did the dishes, so I didn’t hear everything, but I could hear she was getting up a lot. Eventually he said to me, “Do we just let her do this all night?”

“How many times has she gone?”

“I don’t know… like 8?”

We decided that perhaps it’s not so much about the number of times but about the time in-between-times (since if she’s really going, she shouldn’t need to go again 45 seconds later). So he told her she needed to stay in bed for 10 minutes, and if she still needed to go after that, she could get up. Not that she had any idea how long 10 minutes is, but of course we were just hoping she’ll fall asleep, and she usually did.

The next night she went to bed at 7:45 p.m.

8:55: “I just need a tissue.”

“I gave you a whole box of tissues, Serena; they’re in your room.”

“Yes, but there are some downstairs, too.”

“Use the ones in your room, Serena.”

“But I just want to talk to you.” (Yes, I got that. But you might not want to admit it…)

“It’s not time for talking. It’s time for sleep.” [Man, if I could count the number of times I’ve said “It’s time for sleep”…] “You don’t want to be grumpy tomorrow when Pam comes over.”

My guess as to Serena’s understanding of the “rules,” at this point.

1. I need to stay in bed, once I get in bed.

2. …unless it’s for something important, like going to the bathroom or getting a tissue.

3. I need to stay in bed, unless it’s for something important, and important things include:

a. Going to the bathroom

b. Getting a tissue

c. Asking a question. About anything. Like why walruses have tusks. That would count.

4. If I get out of bed, my parents will talk to me, even if they say it’s not time for talking, and the longer I keep them talking, the longer I get to be out of bed!

“But I won’t be grumpy, if I take my nap!”

“It’s important to sleep at night, too.” [Why am I still talking??]

(pause)

“There’s a picture of you, me, Daddy, and Sam here!”

“Serena, it’s time for sleep. We can talk about the picture in the morning.”

(pause)

“I just need a tissue.”

A few minutes of quiet ensued.

Then, at 9:14: “Mommy, can I throw my tissue away?”

No, Serena, just put on the floor, next to your bed, and we’ll throw it away in the morning. You need to focus on relaxing right now. Get into your bed, take some deep breaths, and go to sleep.”

“I can’t.”

“You can.” [Now, I am not just “still talking,” I am arguing. Excellent. I’m pretty sure that’s exactly what the behaviorists advise.]

“Well, I can, but it’s just that I don’t want to.” (Yes, I get that, too. At what age do they start trying to pretend otherwise?)

“I understand.” [Check out the empathy! Oh, wait. It’s not time for empathy…] “But it’s time for sleep right now. Sometimes we have to do things we don’t want to do.”

(pause)

(sound of bedroom door opening and closing)

9:25: Sounds of door opening and closing.

“Serena, get back in bed.”

“But Mommy, you forgot to put the book away.”

“I’ll put it back in the morning, Serena. Go to sleep.”

“But Mommy, why?” (sounding sad and persecuted)

“Because it’s time for sleep.”

9:41: The bedroom door opens. I don’t hear this one — Rob is handling it.

What have we done?!?

***

The next day, I had the brilliant idea to work out all the ridiculous details in advance of bedtime.

“Serena, it’s time for bed. Last night you kept getting out of bed because you “needed” things. You needed your blanket, you wanted to listen to music… Tonight we’re going to do all that now, and then after you go to bed, you won’t get up again, unless you need to… (pause, to wait for her to finish my sentence… which she does not) go to the bathroom.”

“So, what do you need?”

“Nothing. I’ll just go to sleep.”

“Do you want your yellow blanket, or your rocket blanket?”

“Rocket blanket.”

“OK. Good night.”

“Good night, Mommy” (tucked in and adorable).

Phew. Thank goodness. So clearly now she can’t get up and ask for anything, because she just said she doesn’t need anything.

A few minutes later (why do I persist in believing that two-year-olds are rational?):

“I need my yellowy (blanket).”

“No, Serena, it’s too late for that. Go back to bed.”

A few minutes after that:

“I need music.”

“No, Serena. Go back to bed.”

Crying, then silence. Did she cry herself to sleep?

A few minutes later: more footsteps and doors opening and closing. No talking, though, so I didn’t engage.

I think this is not over yet.