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Bedtime Diplomacy: Out-Trolling the Tiny Negotiator
Parenting is a wild ride, and today was no exception. It’s 9:30 PM, and I’m trying to convince my toddler son that sleep is a wonderful idea. We’re snuggled in bed, and I pull out my classic argument: "All your friends are already asleep, buddy. If you want to have fun playing with them tomorrow at school, you need to rest now so you’re not sleepy during playtime."
To my relief, he starts panning, tilting, and rolling—like a little camera drone settling into its dock. These are the telltale signs he’s beginning to wind down, his body finding its way to dreamland. Optimism fills the room; I imagine a smooth ride into his dreams and, for me, some quiet overtime work.
Then comes his first demand: more milk. I call his bluff immediately.
"Hey, we just had two bottles! No way you need more milk. Let’s go to sleep."
He insists, and just to spice things up, threatens to cry. Classic toddler. I cave.
I get up, tell him to hold onto his pillow, stay still, and wait for me. I return promptly with a bottle of 50% diluted milk—because, you know, compromise—and dangle it like the prize it is.
"Let’s go to sleep now," I say, feeling victorious.
It almost works. Almost.
Twenty seconds later, his sleepy little brain realizes the milk is still in my hand. He asks for it. Fine. I hand it over, thinking, Now we’re good. Surely this is the endgame.
But no. He clings to the last sliver of energy in his tiny body and declares he needs… water.
Now, this is absolute BS. He never drinks water in the bedroom, and the untouched milk bottle in his hands would serve the same purpose. I try reasoning.
"Hey, the milk will fix your thirst too! Drink that!"
He threatens to cry again.
And then it hits me: I’m the toy. I’m the shiny object keeping him from falling asleep.
So, I try a new strategy. I get up, ask him (once again) to hold onto his pillow, and make intense eye contact to double-confirm he understands: stay still while I get your water.
Here’s the twist—I don’t come back.
Fifteen minutes later, he’s sound asleep, and I’m laughing with my wife about the sheer absurdity of the bedtime shenanigans.
Lessons from the Bedtime Battlefield
The Toddler:
Our little guy has mastered the art of trolling adults. He knows exactly when he has the upper hand—bedtime. Crying equals delays, and delays mean the grown-ups lose. It’s mutual destruction, and he knows we fear it. Does he enjoy this? Probably not. But he’ll use it to his advantage anyway.
The Adult:
I played the long game. By predicting his energy levels were critically low, I pulled a next-level troll move: walking away from the negotiation table. He ran out of steam without my distraction. Game, set, match.
Final Takeaways
For the Toddler:
Maybe trolling adults isn’t the best long-term strategy. It’s rude, inefficient, and ultimately a waste of everyone’s time—including his.
For the Adult (me):
Telling the toddler to wait and then not returning might not be the most trust-building move. Lesson learned.
For Both of Us:
Perhaps we’re better off skipping the trolling altogether and embracing some good, old-fashioned bedtime crying.
And that’s parenting in a nutshell: a chaotic mix of humor, tactics, and lessons learned (mostly by me).
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Parenting is a wild ride, and today was no exception. It’s 9:30 PM, and I’m trying to convince my toddler son that sleep is a wonderful idea. We’re snuggled in bed, and I pull out my classic argument: "All your friends are already asleep, buddy. If you want to have fun playing with them tomorrow at school, you need to rest now so you’re not sleepy during playtime."
To my relief, he starts panning, tilting, and rolling—like a little camera drone settling into its dock. These are the telltale signs he’s beginning to wind down, his body finding its way to dreamland. Optimism fills the room; I imagine a smooth ride into his dreams and, for me, some quiet overtime work.
Then comes his first demand: more milk. I call his bluff immediately.
"Hey, we just had two bottles! No way you need more milk. Let’s go to sleep."
He insists, and just to spice things up, threatens to cry. Classic toddler. I cave.
I get up, tell him to hold onto his pillow, stay still, and wait for me. I return promptly with a bottle of 50% diluted milk—because, you know, compromise—and dangle it like the prize it is.
"Let’s go to sleep now," I say, feeling victorious.
It almost works. Almost.
Twenty seconds later, his sleepy little brain realizes the milk is still in my hand. He asks for it. Fine. I hand it over, thinking, Now we’re good. Surely this is the endgame.
But no. He clings to the last sliver of energy in his tiny body and declares he needs… water.
Now, this is absolute BS. He never drinks water in the bedroom, and the untouched milk bottle in his hands would serve the same purpose. I try reasoning.
"Hey, the milk will fix your thirst too! Drink that!"
He threatens to cry again.
And then it hits me: I’m the toy. I’m the shiny object keeping him from falling asleep.
So, I try a new strategy. I get up, ask him (once again) to hold onto his pillow, and make intense eye contact to double-confirm he understands: stay still while I get your water.
Here’s the twist—I don’t come back.
Fifteen minutes later, he’s sound asleep, and I’m laughing with my wife about the sheer absurdity of the bedtime shenanigans.
Lessons from the Bedtime Battlefield
The Toddler:
Our little guy has mastered the art of trolling adults. He knows exactly when he has the upper hand—bedtime. Crying equals delays, and delays mean the grown-ups lose. It’s mutual destruction, and he knows we fear it. Does he enjoy this? Probably not. But he’ll use it to his advantage anyway.
The Adult:
I played the long game. By predicting his energy levels were critically low, I pulled a next-level troll move: walking away from the negotiation table. He ran out of steam without my distraction. Game, set, match.
Final Takeaways
For the Toddler:
Maybe trolling adults isn’t the best long-term strategy. It’s rude, inefficient, and ultimately a waste of everyone’s time—including his.
For the Adult (me):
Telling the toddler to wait and then not returning might not be the most trust-building move. Lesson learned.
For Both of Us:
Perhaps we’re better off skipping the trolling altogether and embracing some good, old-fashioned bedtime crying.
And that’s parenting in a nutshell: a chaotic mix of humor, tactics, and lessons learned (mostly by me).