Pushing her luck (Anna)

This is one of those cute but exasperating stories that would be so much sweeter if it didn't come as part of a long battle to convince a tired toddler to sleep. (She's actually still not asleep, but she's singing This Old Man to herself in bed and is reasonably quiet, so I'm in denial for a few minutes.)

A good 25 minutes after the last recorded sighting (or audio evidence) of the little monster after bedtime, she suddenly appeared in the living room, having sneaked down the stairs quietly, and announced happily: "I've had a very good sleep. Now - playtime?!" I picked her up, put on my stern Mumma voice and told her it was bedtime and that twenty minutes of lying in bed does not a very good sleep make. Or, you know, words to that effect.

She grinned at me happily on the way back upstairs, looked up into my eyes with love and said, delighted, "Mumma, I pushing my luck." (no idea where she picked up that phrase from. Ahem)

So what did I, stern mother bear, do to reinforce my authority in the face of this asute, highly accurate, observation? I burst out laughing. "You certainly are," I agreed. Still grinning, I cuddled her close, put her back to bed and said, "Oh, Emmy-baby. What are we going to do with you?"

Now Emma has not quite mastered the idea of a rhetorical question, and a few minutes later, before I left the room again, she asked, joyfully and with great anticipation, "Mumma! What ARE you going to do with me?" I think she had images of us feeding her chocolate for a week, or buying her a puppy, or letting her stay up and play all night. Or at least lots of raspberries on her belly.

Of course,what was in my head at the time wasn't quite so congenial :) But, you know, I don't want to give her nightmares or nuffin' - so I decided that some questions are better left unanswered.

Let's just say, though, that if she doesn't go to sleep sometime this century, she's in danger of finding out...