One More Glass of Water: A Bedtime Negotiation

Eight requests, three encores and one very small lawyer standing on a duvet at 9:15pm.

The requests arrive in a fixed order, and I've come to admire the craft of it. Water first, because who denies a child water. Then the toilet, because that's a health matter. Then a question about the universe, because you can't refuse curiosity.

Last night's question was whether sharks ever get tired. I said I didn't know. She said, "then how do you know I'm tired," and honestly, that's a fair point, delivered at 9:15pm by someone in dinosaur pyjamas.

I have tried firmness. I have tried the calm return-to-bed method, which works beautifully in books and less beautifully on stair nine of a creaky staircase. I have tried lying on her floor and falling asleep first, which is technically a loss but felt like a win.

What actually helped was moving the whole circus earlier. We do the water, the toilet and one shark fact before lights out, on purpose, as part of the routine. Turns out she wasn't stalling. She was just doing her list in the wrong order.

Mostly. She still stands on the bed sometimes, holding a glass, like a tiny senator filibustering sleep itself.