Eggcellent question...

Alex has had a pretty solid bedtime routine for most of her life.  It has evolved over time, but currently includes...

• Brushing teeth
• Putting on PJs
• Watching a TV show of her choosing (unless it's too late or we have had behavioral issues)
• Read a book
• Mama reads a book to her
• I sing Twinkle Twinkle
• I sing "La-la's" (Twinkle Twinkle with la-la-la replacing the last three syllables of each line... don't ask)
• She asks me to stay with her for two minutes
• We talk for two minutes
• Sleepy time

It works well and we almost never have bedtime problems.  Routine.  Routine.  Routine. 

The other night as I lay with her and talked for two minutes, she got quiet.  And then, without looking at me or raising her voice above a hush, she asked me, "How did you know how many eggs there were?".  I told her I wasn't sure what she was asking.  She said, "You know, when the Easter Bunny came, how did you know how many eggs there were?"

This was months ago and I had to think... and then remembered that when she was searching for eggs I thought I'd be a great parent and make it a math project.  I told her there were 25 eggs.  "Okay," I said like dope, "you found 14, how many more are there?"  She always knew the answer and I patted myself on the back... fast forward to the question... How long has she been working this out in her head?

I told her that the bunny left me a note designating the number of eggs to insure that she wouldn't miss any of them.

"Do you still have the note?"

Jesus... I was starting to sweat a little.  I told her that I had recycled it.

"Why would you do that?

I rambled an answer about helping Mother Earth and quickly decided that her two minutes were up and kissed her goodnight.

I am going to have to be more careful...

Alex unpacked...

We went to Maine for vacation... it was wonderful.  We rented a house and ate and drank and swam in the freezing cold ocean.  We rode a trolley and took a tour on a lobster boat and wandered the quaint little tourist trap town.  And, we went for a hike...

Alex has been on many hikes in her life.  Right down the road, ten miles off the coast of Maine, Switzerland... she is no stranger to the hike.  Except for the hiking part.  She has spent almost all of those hikes in a backpack being lugged around by one person or another.  But, on this trip, we ventured into New Hampshire to hike to the summit of Mt. Major with no backpack in tow...

Five miles of walking, half up half down.  1100ft in elevation change.  Maybe a bit much for the first try.  She was whining before we ever got out of the parking lot.  We headed up.  And up.  She would get distracted by nature and be fine for a while.  then the whining.  Distracted by a snack.  Whining.  She thought she couldn't do it, then we reached the summit...

It was like she drank four Red Bulls.  Energized, happy, enthusiastic... she ran around and marveled at Lake Winnipesaukee below us. 

We had lunch and rested.  We talked and gazed.  She was a delight.

Then we started down.  Probably shouldn't have pointed out the parking lot which was a speck below us.  She started off like a trooper at first, happily searching for the trail markers.  Then a little melt down... she couldn't do it.  Pepped back up when we had to navigate jumping rock to rock to cross a stream.  Melt down.  Happily collected rocks from a river.  Melt down... and so it went, but we went...

The final melt down.  She was crying.  Huge tears streaming down her cheeks.  Her feet hurt.  She was tired.  Can't somebody please, please carry her.  We could hear the traffic... smell the lake... almost see the parking lot, and she wouldn't budge.  It was heart breaking and funny and infuriating...

Finally Michele talked her off the edge and they slowly made it, holding hands, through the last few steps to the car.  She did it.  She did it!  I am proud of her... and have used it against her many time since.  "What do you mean you can't walk to the Farmers Market, I saw you climb a MOUNTAIN!"...