Night Night, Spank Tight

Bed time has a whole new meaning at the Reynolds house since we implemented BIG BOY BEDS. Of course, we had no choice - Evan and Owen were fully capable of climbing out of their cribs and potentially injuring themselves. But Nate and I long for the days when bed time meant ... well, bed time.

Now, the words "bed time" mean to the twins: "We can bank on at least another 45 minutes of playing in our rooms and acting like monkeys. We can expect Mom and Dad to come in periodically waving their index finger and threatening spankings. Spankings, schmankings. Dad's the only one who can deliver a halfway effective smack. Mom's a push over. And the sting of Dad's spankings wears off quickly, so we can get back to playing in minutes. Maybe we can get in a full hour of rough housing before we fall asleep from sheer exhaustion. NOT because Mom and Dad TOLD us to go to bed."

Gone are the days when bed time meant Nate and I could finally, for a blessed hour and a half or so, sit on the couch and stare at the TV with no one to scold, no one to spank, nothing to clean up, nothing to do but relax.

Sniff. We really miss the old bed time.