Perfect bedtime or Michael's Frozen Custard?

Not that our bedtime was a scene tonight, which it can be when we miss the beautiful window of sleepy opportunity and pass into the carnal mysteries of being 5 and being overtired, but the boys probably could have benefited from a 7:30 bedtime. There were signs all day of caught-up fatigue. I actually heard these words as we were heading home from the splash park and errands: "I want to take a rest with you, Mommy." There were no requests for particular songs in the car. After rest when we were at the pool, Dietrich watched more people dive off the boards than he took turns jumping in himself. And there were no arguments about eating dinner.

We could have just sent them up to a bath, found pajamas, and called it an early night. But the humidity has left us, a breeze is keeping the mosquitoes away, and the sun is still high at 7 at night. So instead, we suggested getting ice cream at Michael's. "What?" Dietrich asked. "Ice cream, at Michael's. Do you want to go?" "Yes! I do!" "What?" Elliott asked followed by one more, "What?" from Dietrich. We left the dishes, found shoes, hopped on bikes, pedaled down to the custard shop, and ate sweet, creamy custard.

It was almost 9 by the time everyone was settled down, changed pajamas (it has cooled off, but not enough for fleece penguin jammies), dressed the bear in pajamas, sang to each other, fought about the direction of the fan, moved one child to our room and finally fell asleep. But in the archives of our life with little ones, we will remember the sweet, creamy custard and the bike ride. The perfect bedtimes? Can't think of any worth remembering even now. Never mind that my toe was crushed in a scramble to press the garage door button rendering me on a couch with an ice pack while Ryan told bedtime stories. But still, there will be plenty of time for perfect (or at least early) bedtimes this winter.