Bedtime? I Scoff at Your Bedtime!

Son never found a lovey he loved until he was nearly two. We were staying in a hotel between Christmas and New Year's, and when they delivered the little crib in which he was to sleep, it came with a soft, golden brown teddy. Later christened Teddy, full-name Tederrific Ted, (aka Fritz Mooker, Amish Super Spy), this bear is a must-have for nightly sleeping even though Son is now five and a half.

A few nights ago, Teddy was missing.

There were tears and lamentations. There was much hunting high and low. But no one could find Teddy in any of the usual places (under the pillow, on the floor face-down next to the parents' bed, or sitting on the breakfast table). Finally, heart-broken, Son had to go to bed alone. The rigmarole continued the next night to no avail. However, both children, high-strung from the weeknight treat of eating out in a restaurant, managed to stay awake until nearly 9:30pm -- a full two hours past their ideal sleep times.

On night three, after a long day of hair-trigger sensitivity caused by being over-tired (what does it take to make a child cry at this point? just look at her cross-eyed), bedtime was slated for early o'clock.

Enter a thunderstorm.

And not just a run-of-the-mill rain storm. Oh, no. This one kicked off with a burst of lightening and a crack of thunder so loud that I leaped out of my chair in anticipation of Daughter's panicked shrieks before they'd even fully developed.

Of course, the calming and soothing of nervousness, the repeated discussions of the storm, lasted until very very late o'clock.

And then there was the little matter of Teddy. Still unfound. Whose loss was now beginning to feel monumental. "I won't even have him for Christmas," Son said mournfully, beginning to tear up. I tried to reassure him that some time in the next six months, Tederrific would certainly turn up. He wasn't buying it and went back to his lonely bed to cry.

Five minutes later, Daughter popped up from her bed, dashed in to me at the computer, and nearly shouted in her triumph, "Oh, OH! He's in a bowl. Teddy's in a bowl!!" I looked at her and said, "Let's go tell your brother. He will be so happy that you remembered where to find Teddy."

She ran into Son's room, and broke into hysterical tears as she said, "Teddy's in a bowl, Brother! He's in a bowl downstairs!"

So we all trooped down, while Son and Daughter tag-teamed their sentences explaining that the other day they had found Teddy and Hello Kitty and put them into a silver bowl to pretend it was a boat, and Son remembered that they had done that, but didn't know where the boat was, and... And then Daughter led us straight to the bowl, pulled out Teddy, and handed him to her brother. And he smiled with shy delight, reached into the bowl, pulled out Hello Kitty and handed her to his sister. And then they both hugged their respective "guys" tighter than tight, and climbed up the stairs, and got into bed.

And stayed there.

Finally.

And it was only 8:54 pm.