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This Michigan Life

Why You Can’t Stay Up Until 9 o’clock

Posted on May 20, 2014

stayup“Mom, it’s Friday. Can we stay up until nine?”

“No.”

“But it isn’t a school night.”

“Um, well, it was a long week, and you’re extra tired, and I want you to get a good night’s rest because tomorrow is Saturday.”

“Yeah, it’s SATURDAY. No school.”

“You can’t enjoy your day off if you’re tired.”

“Well, can we stay up late tomorrow night?”

“No. We have to go to church Sunday morning.”

“Ugh! You never let us stay up late! When will we ever get to stay up late?!”

“When you get your own apartment. Go brush your teeth.”

No, dear children you can’t stay up past 8 o’clock, because you woke me up at 5:30 this morning to tell me there was a bird singing outside your window. As much as I’m happy you have an appreciation for nature, I prefer you wait to tell me about it after my alarm clock goes off.

You can’t stay up late, because I’ll go postal if I hear one more time, “Moooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooom!” in that alarming I’m-on-fire pitch only to discover the major crisis is your brother’s minor infraction of touching you with his foot while you watched cartoons.

You will go to bed now, because I simply can’t get one more snack or fetch one more drink from the kitchen.

It’s lights out because Mad Men and Call the Midwife are waiting for me on the DVR, and I don’t want you to know yet all the graphic details about where babies come from or about Don’s three-martini lunches.

It’s time for night-night because I want to have an adult conversation with your father that isn’t interrupted every five seconds by, “Mom! Watch me play with this car. Mom! Look what I made! Mom! Where is my Nerf gun?”

You’re going to bed on time because I spent that last 14 hours washing your dishes, doing your laundry, playing Candyland, helping with convoluted math homework and cooking three different dinners to satisfy everyone’s overly discerning palate.

It’s going to get ugly if you don’t go to sleep now. I’m not responsible for what happens after 8pm, and, frankly, I can’t afford to pay for that much therapy for you.

So GO TO BED!

Look at my little darlings. They’re so precious. When they’re sleeping.

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