Kids Are So Literal

Connor’s MO at bedtime lately has been to get up and open his door at least once after lights-out, with a request of, “Mommy, cover me up!”

So, tonight, when he went through his other new ritual of planning out his agenda for the next however long, and he made it clear that he was already planning to get out of bed and go to the door and call for me, I tried a new tactic.

He’s also really into making me happy — or at least making sure I’m not mad. If he can sense through my body language that I’m frustrated, he’ll insist on giving me a hug to make sure I’m happy. So, I told him, “If you get out of bed, that will make Mommy angry. If you stay in bed, then Mommy will be happy!”

We went through the goodnight kisses and hugs and sweet dreams, and I closed his gate (which he is now capable of opening, but doesn’t do at night) and his bedroom door and went downstairs to decompress and have some grown-up time.

Not five minutes later, I heard a much softer than usual beckon.

“Mommy!”

You know where this is going.

I went to the staircase and looked up to see, yes, his door was still mostly closed, just how I’d left it. I went upstairs, into his room, where he asked me to cover him up, and confirmed that, yes, Mommy was happy.

He did it again 15 minutes later: called me from his bed to fix the covers he’d kicked off of himself.

Damn literal child brains.

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