Bleeding Bones

When I pull the mint gingham sheets and floral comforter up under her chin and kiss my daughter's cheek before wishing her sweet dreams, a piece of me shuts off. That piece is my mommy mode...the state of being able to simultaneously prepare meals, wipe noses, listen to recitations of nursery rhymes, watch made dance moves to Wiggles music, and answer a slurry of questions ranging from ethics, to art, to anatomy, to theology.

By eight o' clock in the evening, I'm fried. I'm not sure if something innate turns off the mommy mode switch or if it just short-circuits on its own. But once my kids are in bed, I prefer that they stay in their beds until rays of sunshine press through the glass windows and slowly entice eyelids to open. In fact, few things irritate me more than flipping the mommy mode switch back on once I think I can rest it for a few hours.

Because of my lack of patience after bedtime, I've set up a few bedtime rules.

Rule 1: Once put to bed, the child is not permitted to come back out of his/her room until morning unless there is an emergency.

In our home an emergency consists of needing to use the bathroom, bleeding, or fire.

Needing to use the bathroom, can usually be handled without adult supervision and blood and fire are not likely to occur once the child is in bed.

Last night, however, X-Factor slowly came out of her room claiming emergency.

When I saw her slowly walking toward me I asked, "Are you on fire?"
I was not joking when I stated that my patience wanes after bedtime.

"No, and I don't even smell smoke" she answered.

"Are you bleeding?"

"I think so," she replied.

"Really," I questioned, suspiciously. "Where? How?"

"I fell off my bed."

"X, your bed sits four inches from the floor and there are pillows on top of the carpet right beside your bed. How could you have gotten hurt, let alone bleed?"

"Well," she started defensively, "I did fall and it did hurt, right here," she said as she pointed to her left calf.

"I'm sorry your leg hurts, but I don't see any blood...or any mark at all. Please go back to bed."

She sighed and continued her defense.

"You don't see any bleed (she calls blood bleed) because when I fell, I cut my bone. It's my bone that is bleeding and you cannot see it because my skin is covering it. But, I can feel it bleeding."

"Nice try. Go. Back. To. Bed," I said calmly and firmly resolute.

I'm not sure what leaves more of an impression...her creativity or my lack of sympathy.