This post was originally published in October of 2005. It explains a little bit about The Crib.
Like most modern households with children, we have divvied up the child-care tasks. Antique Daddy handles the bedtime routine and I handle everything else up to that point. And I must say that he does an excellent job. With very few exceptions, bedtime is a happy and special time that both he and Sean look forward to at the end of the day.
Antique Daddy was gone a few days this week, so I had to cover the bedtime routine. And I really thought it went well. Sean happily went to sleep each night. I thought I had tasted a little bit of that end-of-the-day magic that he shares with his daddy. I thought I had been accepted into the boy’s club.
When Antique Daddy returned home from a long day of work and travel, I decided that I would give him a pass and let him relax while I put Sean to bed. I seated myself in the rocker and pulled out one of his favorite books to read. I patted my legs and motioned for Sean to crawl up in my lap. But he just looked at me like I was from Mars. He grabbed my index finger and yanked on it making it perfectly clear I was in the wrong seat. After I removed myself from the seat of honor, he patted the seat of the rocker and said, “Dah-dee. Scheep dow.”
As Sean crawled up into his daddy’s lap, I sat down on the floor at the feet of the master hoping to gain some wisdom if only by breathing his rarified air. Sean looked down on me from his perch as if to say “Are you still here?” Pushing the book aside, he crawled down out of his daddy’s lap, and again by the finger, yanked me to my feet and showed me the door. He literally escorted me to the door — with a little push from behind lest anyone be uncertain about his intentions. At the door, I bent over for my goodnight kiss. He blew me a kiss and waved bye-bye, as in “buh-bye” and then slammed the door in my face.
Daddy was home. Without ceremony, my services were no longer needed.