Blog a la Cart

Earlier this week we had friends over during the bedtime routine.

Since James wanted to spend time with said friends, he skipped the whole lie-down-with-the-demanding-toddler-and-rub-her-back-until-she-caves-to-the-unconscious.

Which meant we suffered through an hour’s worth of protests and hysterics at the hand of one very disgruntled two year old who has become accustomed to Daddy’s back rubs at bedtime.

You see, James has created a beast. A back rub dependent monster, if you will. You thought I was the back rub tyrant. You are mistaken. Addison Weeks Cart has taken up that title thanks to some serious enabling from her father.

You’d think that after nine years of being with me that he’d have known better than to duplicate such a monstrousity in the Cart household.

Alas, the back rub beast is here. And she was less-than-pleased that her father did not want to devote a full hour putting her to sleep by the presence of his hand on her back.

After many a failed negotiation and attempt at compromise between father and daughter, I threw myself into the mix.

I perched myself on the end of Sunny’s bed and asked her why she was so upset.

Her response:

I want Daddy to rub my back because I can’t rub my own back. My back isn’t going to rub itself.

True that, sister. There’s no arguing with that kind of flawless rationale.

Sorry, James, she’s really learned from the best, huh?