Oh, bedtime. Bedtime, bedtime, bedtime.
Not the best time of the day over here. Lately, it's been like pulling teeth to get Lucy to bed. She fights it, she is rude, she has a bad attitude, and the parents aren't much better.
Today, she was stomping up the stairs in a huff when I insisted it was time to do so, and I decided to try ignoring her bad mood. I decided to distract her, instead.
I suggested using her new flashlight to find her pajamas. Which delighted her. She found the pj's. She found her toothbrush. She found her stories and did it all in record time. We told her story under the blanket, we giggled and snuggled. We both had great fun.
Sometimes, the problem isn't her. Sometimes, the problem is me. Well, not me, but the end-of-day blah-ness that makes it hard to think of anything besides what I'm going to do after the children are still and quiet for the first time that day. It's hard to be creative at bedtime.
Hard. And so, so worth it.