The little angel has added a new act to her late-late-late night antics.  This is sort of the appetizer version, the preview of coming attractions.  Yes, the wee one who before only gave us trouble between the hours of 1 and 4 a.m. is now REFUSING TO GO TO BED. 

I was unprepared for it on Friday night, the first night that she has ever refused to go to bed in her twenty-one months.  She faked like it was all going to be okay, then she popped up, stuck her foot in her mouth and beamed at me.  "Hi Mommy!" she said brightly.

I sat there in shock while she struck various cheerleading poses on her bed, auditioning to become a Harajuko Girl. The reality that she was not going to sleep anytime soon began to sink in.  I decided if she was going to party, I was at least going to read (considering my Saturday night and the possibility of a DVD were rapidly fading). 

I cracked her bedroom door and shut the baby gate.  I plopped a pillow against the hard, cold wall and pulled out John Irving's latest, Until I Find You.  I wondered again how long this exercise in parental futility would take. 

Pretty soon she appeared on the other side of the gate, completely unafraid of the darkness behind her.  She had a musical instrument in her hand.  It's a xylophone, and she can never get the little wand to beat on it out of its slot.  "Mama, help," she said, tossing the xylophone over the gate. It narrowly missed my head.

"No, go to sleepy.  Shhh," I said.  This particular method is from The No-Cry Sleep Solution, for those of you who are scoring at home.  I made no eye contact.

Pretty soon she came back, this time with her Cabbage Patch Kid.  The CPK was not wearing her shoes.

"Silly baby.  No shoes," the little angel said, tossing Bethany over the gate at me.  She landed on the xylophone, which made a tired ping.

"Shhh," I said, not making eye contact, trying to read about tattoo artists and not think about that DVD and my wine, which I had foolishly left downstairs.

Next the little angel appeared with Elmo and Fox in Socks. 

"Read, Mommy.  READ BOOKS." 

"No, sleepy.  Shhhh," I said, reading my own book in denial of my wishes for her.

She wasn't bothered by this.  She plopped Elmo down (a feat, considering he is bigger than she is) and started reading the book to him.  "Fox and socks and toxy moxy ONE TWYO TREE FOUR fox and socks and shoes SHOES SHOES foxy blocks FIVE SICKS SEBBEN ATE NOUN TIN!"

It was getting very hard not to laugh. My shoulders were shaking with effort.  I called for back-up.

My beloved and I took turns, every ten minutes, until she started becoming destructive and called that she had a poopy.  I changed her diaper and rocked her with some milk and she FINALLY FELL ASLEEP at 9:45.  This party had started at 8.

Last night I put her down again, this time at 8:15. I use this term loosely, since it was a repeat performance of the night before. This time I tried the rubber-band approach (this is from another book, but I can't remember the name) and put her back in her bed every time she got out. I did this four or five times until I realized she thought it was a game and was screeching in delight each time I put her back.  I left to let my beloved deal with it after about forty minutes.  He got pissed after she knocked over the Diaper Genie and started clearing out the changing table like an extra on Roadhouse.  I was reminded of the episode of Super Nanny when the children climbed the bookshelves when they were supposed to be sleeping. The problem was that I couldn't remember how the nanny handled it.

I went back in again, seized the angel and rocked her again.  She stared blankly at the wall for about fifteen minutes, then passed out.

We're going to be moving back her bedtime, though I'm not sure if this will help. We ran her around Lowe's for about an hour yesterday trying to pick a new wall sconce for her room so that we can actually see to change her diapers when it's dark outside.  I would've thought she'd be exhausted.

But OH, NO.  This one, she's going to be the Queen of the After-Hours in college.