Bedtime

Braydon, your bedtime routine makes me want to pull my hair out and kiss your face off all at the same time. 

How is this possible?

Every night you meticulously position your pets in the middle of the bed and cover them with the blanket of unknown origin.

Then you add your ginormous tiger pillow pet.

I've never understood your pet placement as I watch you contort your body to fit into the small space left between your pets and the wall. You can't be comfortable, son.  

Once everyone is in their rightful place, you have me cover you up with THREE blankets.
These blankets have a specific order: light blue on bottom, brown in the middle, lighting McQueen on top.

Your world will end if this order is disrupted. Or at least that's what your fit reveals.









Once you're covered, I ensure your pillow corners are tucked under the rails and your three blankets appropriately hang over the foot rest.

Then we have Jesus Storybook Bible time.

When the story's over, and only when it's over, you drink your water with ice.

It must have ice.

After your drink, I tuck you in and we pray. Your prayer must include all of your cousins, Parker, your brown friend (Makai), Jude, Anthony, Angelina, and currently Kyle's thumb. You will remind me if I've left anyone out.

I admit, my tendency is to rush your process or use my authority to reinforce my laziness.
"Bray, just drink mommy's water. I don't want to get up and get ice."

I know deep down you are detailed, you're structured, and you know what you want.
I love that about you and pray for God's patience to grow inside me, so I may instruct and guide you, not squash your personality, because it's inconvenient.

I love you baba.