Do you remember when you were very young...

... and you decided to fight bedtime?

You were five, and we were on our own. You had to go to preschool and I had to go to work every weekday. I told you that we didn't see each other enough to spend the last and first hours of the day fighting.

We made a deal.

I let you choose your bedtime and you promised you'd get up in the mornings and get dressed without giving me a hard time. I explained that I wasn't going to fight with you, but if you weren't ready when it was time to go I would carry you to the car directly from your bed and you'd go to school in your pajamas.

Of course, you stayed up very late that very night, and just couldn't get up the next morning. As promised, I carried you, your breakfast, and your shoes and socks to the car and drove you to school. On the way, you put on your shoes and socks and ate your breakfast. I stayed pleasant, but reminded you that you'd chosen to stay up until nearly midnight the night before, and suggested that was the reason you were so sleepy.

The teacher at the curb raised her eyebrows when she opened the door and saw that you were wearing your pajamas. Without comment, she helped you get out of your car seat and sent you up the sidewalk, into the schoolhouse. She stuck her head back into the car, long enough for me to explain our deal.

Thank heaven it was a Montessori school! The teacher understood that I was solving a problem by giving you the power for which you were fighting, accompanied by clear guidelines, and by making sure we both stuck with the deal. You wanted to set your own bedtime; I wanted peaceful evenings and mornings.

And, as always since the day you were born, I wanted to grow an adult who understood that her own actions have consequences.

That evening, when I picked you up from school, you were yawning and very tired. You told me that your day had been awful, that you couldn't learn anything because you had a hard time staying awake, that you couldn't go outside to play because you were in your pajamas, and that you'd been angry and cross all day. On the way home, we talked about sleep and how important it is to our bodies and minds.

You fell asleep at the table over dinner, and I carried you to your bed. I figured that, for this one night, sleep was more important than a bath and brushed teeth and hair.

Ever since, you have gotten yourself to bed and up in the morning and to school and work with admirable discipline. You did not have the sleepiness problems your peers had in high school, as by then you were quite comfortable with your personal sleep requirements. We talked about it.

You might remember this story when you have children of your own.