The latest hurdle we are faced with sometimes is at bedtime. 

It starts with-”Five minutes to bedtime Danny.”  Which is answered with-”Yeah OK Dad.”  Sometimes Danny even goes as far to say “that’s fine.”  Then, when the time comes, there are sometimes tears and tantrums.

Our attempts to calm him down whilst applying logic begin brightly and positively.  “You need sleep so you can have more energy to play tomorrow.  If you’re a good boy and go to bed now, I’ll take you to the playground in the morning.”

Our smiles eventually fade though when trying to reason with him gets us nowhere and the bottom line is that we realise he’s just trying it on.

The dialogue sometimes ends with this:  “We’re going to call the sleep police.”

We’ve road tested this questionable ploy several times-on each occasion it has been successful. 

Here’s what we do.  Got a fake call utility on your phone?  You can record a voice (your own, pretending to be the local ’sleep police’ checking to see if the kids are in bed.) and when you hit a certain key your phone begins to ring.  We let our son hear the ‘cop’ on the other end asking if all the kids in the house are in bed.  If we get the timing right, any bedtime defiance by Danny usually vanishes quickly and instead he pleads: “I want to go to bed now!” 

We don’t feel great about what is essentially lying to our child but, we file it under the ‘little fib’ category to make ourselves feel better.  

At the end of a long day us parents need rest too and whilst we may have to resort to jedi mind tricks to get Danny to go to bed we know he doesn’t harbour any ill effects when he wakes up the following morning, comes into our bed and bids us good morning with a hug and a kiss each. 

In five minutes time Danny’s going to be a teenager presenting us with a whole new bunch of challenges, I’ll take whatever assistance I can get now-God bless the fake call utility!

So here we are, March already and (to me) unbelievably so, I’m beginning to think about Danny finishing playgroup in June.  Trust me, I checked my watch, it actually is only five minutes ago since we took our first tentative steps towards the playgroup gates on his first day.  I remember that walk well and I remember the talk also.

“Now don’t be afraid son, you’re going to have so much fun,” I said.

“I’m not afraid dad.”

“Good, no need son, you’ll make so many new friends won’t you?”

“Yep.”

“Good, good, now when you go in, sit at the table and…”

He cut me off then, “Dad, can I run up to the door and play with those boys?”

“Ehh…yeah…sure…be careful, make sure you don’t fall.”

“I’m sure dad,” he told me and then, to my horror, to my absolute horror, the playgroup door opened and the ‘teacher lady carer playgroup woman’ came out and with a huge smile boomed, “Come on in boys!” 

I wanted to cry out for my son to come running back to me looking for the security of my arms whereby I would rush home with him and never let him outside, ever, again.  I raised a hand for him to use as a marker towards safety but he obviously couldn’t see me in the melee of excited boys and girls and then, without so much as a quick glance backwards, no ‘bye bye daddy’, no tears, no fear, he disappeared, nay, he ran, through the playgroup door.  That was at 8.45am and for the next three hours I prayed for his safety.  The birds carried on singing as normal and people the world over, without any consideration for what I was going through, carried on with their daily routines. 

Six months later, we’re veterans, hardened, cold eyed, fearless veterans of the playgroup going world.  We bounce out of the car and talk about the robot they’re going to make shortly with cardboard boxes and tin cans, nothing fazes us.  Well, that was until last week…I had to enrol Danny in ‘the big school’.

I can feel the panic beginning to ebb and flow already from my brain into my very soul and I’ve already started to assure Danny that he’ll love the big school with the big, giant boys who are giants, in giant school uniforms, in the giant school yard with giant teachers.  My wife then steps in and short of restraining me physically she places a hand on my shoulder and stays my anxiety as she turns to Danny and asks him. 

“Danny, you looking forward to big school?”

“Yep,” he answers, “We’re gonna make big robots there, much bigger than playgroup and we can play outside in the yard as well!” he exclaims excitedly.

My wife then turns back to me with that all knowing look and flashes a sympathetic smile in my direction.  Although my nerves still try to re-enact Saturday night fever in my stomach, I think he’s going to be OK, I think I’m the one who will come home crying on the first day.