I am dragging my bum and looking forward to bed even more than usual, after last night's series of unfortunate events. This was a Krinkeland first, and hopefully last:
I heard Benjamin get up in the middle of the night to go to the bathroom. I absolutely always hear him if he gets out of bed, because his room is right across the hall from mine and because he walks with loud, plodding elephant feet. All the time. No matter how I remind him. When Ben returned to his room, he closed the door, but I could hear continuing commotion beyond. Minutes later, Ben emerged, fully dressed, and headed down the hall to where his iPad rests on the charger. "Ben!" I hissed. "Ben! What are you doing?" He popped his head around the doorframe, "Oh, hey, Mom." I asked again, "What are you doing? Where are you going?" He said, "I'm going downstairs to get some breakfast." "No, you're not," I said. "It's the middle of the night!" Benjamin argued with me. I showed him the digital clock: 2:32. "Oh," he shrugged and grinned. "I must've looked at the clock wrong. I thought it was 6:32." I told him to take off his uniform and go back to bed and sleep for four more hours. He gave me an Annoying-Man-You-don't-have-to-yell look, but he went back to bed.
That kid-- My reason for napping.