I win

Lindsay isn't the only one competing these days.



When you have a child that is 5 years younger than the last, you really cling to those precious moments that are so sweet they bring tears to your eyes. At our house, in times of need, usually I win the affections of the children, but not always. Hayden can be a toss-up.



In the first two years of life, I would say he was a daddy's boy. Then it switched to me, and he was a mama's boy, which is the way we like it. (I use "we" very loosely here.)



Dave doesn't have much of an iron fist, but when it's implemented, the kids generally take notice. Mr. Mellow Yellow doesn't raise his voice often or impose authority over the household much generally because it isn't required. Non-compliance hasn't been a major issue in our lives.

Well, yesterday was a big day. We had the elementary school fall carnival. Very exciting day for Hayden. All kinds of booths, cake walks, and bounce houses. So much to do! As for parenting on days like this, I wallow in the joy of my children and try to have that overshadow my discontent with the wind whipping my hair in my face and ruining any effort I might have made to look manicured and presentable. It's a rare event, so I'm disappointed it's going unnoticed.



Anyhoo, after an afternoon of tossing rings, bouncing in inflatbles houses and racing down slides, it's time for a quick meal and a bath. Before long, it's 9 pm and time for some shut-eye. Dave takes control and tells Hayden it's time for bed.

The exhaustion kicks in and the crying has begun.



Dave comes downstairs and annoyingly says: "Hayden's waiting for you to tuck him in and he's crying. I told him it's time for bed but he's crying about watching the Backyardigans he just turned on. I told him no...and now he won't stop crying. So you go tell him."



I just rented that movie for Friday night for him so we could watch the movie I rented us. That Hayden, he's a sly one. He was excited about the new movie. I go upstairs, and you would have thought the sky was falling in. The tears wouldn't stop flowing. The heaving. The clinging and hugging.

I'm relishing it all.



Ohhhh, the love. "Mother save me" -- his crying whispers, rather, moans. "Love me more than Daddy." I know it's shallow and immature, but I'm still enjoying the drama.

Lovingly, gently, in almost a whisper: "Okay, Hayden. That's enough. Dad loves you, you know that. But he wants you to get some rest for school tomorrow. Then it's the weekend. You can finish the Backyardigans then. Time to stop crying or I'm taking away the movie."



Moments pass.



"Can I just sleep with you for a few minutes. I can't stop crying."

Melting.

Thought, but unsaid: "But, of course, my sweet darling, tortured soul. But just because you love me more than your daddy tonight. Of course, I would love to have you join me under the covers for some cuddling and calming of the nerves. You poor, sweet boy. You've been through so much today and you're just over-tired. Daddy can carry you back to your bed in a minute."



I'll be too warm and toasty to do it myself.



Hayden is asleep in less than 60 seconds. Completely wiped. So much for cuddling and comforting. Still, the warmth of that little body, limp and peaceful, warms my heart.



30 minutes later, Dave arrives in the bedroom. He pulls back the covers. Laughter.



I look at him and explain there was no way I could turn down his desperate cry. "Plus, he loves me more."

Dave: "That's obvious. I'm not carrying him to bed. My back is killing me. Have fun."


Small price to pay for winning. I know these days are numbered (as he's getting almost too heavy to carry), and I want to end up on top of the heap. Now you know where Lindsay gets it from.