Nighttime Surprise

Parenting is tough. It often leads to frustration, pain, and tears. It brings the ogre creeping forth in the best of us. In the end we hope that we can do enough right to counteract what we did wrong.

Case-in-point, when my son was about 2 and a half, we were having problems with him getting up in the middle of the night. We would put him to bed and about 15 minutes later he would get up. He would slip down the stairs and pad over to where we sat in the living room. Giving his sweetest grin, he would say, “Can I have some water?”

Attempting to curb this behavior, we said, “No! You must stay in bed.” Then one of us firmly marched him up the stairs and deposited him onto his mattress. A few moments later we’d again hear the patter of little feet on the stairs.

After this had gone on for a while, it was time for us to go to bed. We reached the hallway between our bedrooms and heard our little one fumbling with his doorknob. I waved my wife towards our sleeping chamber indicating that I would take care of the problem.

I had an idea. It wasn’t a very good idea, but it seemed to make sense at the time. I crept up to the door and waited. Finally the boy managed to twist open the door. An impish face poked forth. Bright blue eyes over an ear to ear grin scanned the semi-lit hallway. I pounced.

I can only imagine what flew through his mind as the Daddy-Ogre jumped from the shadows with a loud “RAHR!” Yes, I literally said “RAHR!” My son’s eyes went from smile slits to huge terror filled orbs. His smile instantly flipped to a comic strip frown. Then his lips popped open and he screamed, “AHHHH” and sprinted directly into the doorknob. Covering his face and screeching an even more distressed “AHHHH” he disappeared into his room.

I stood stunned for a moment. I wasn’t sure what I had expected but that was definitely not it.

My wife darted from our room and said, “What happened?”

“I did something stupid”, I muttered as I pushed into my son’s room and flipped on the light.

In the middle of the mattress was a quivering lump. My wife ran over and scooped up the lump while peeling back the covers. When my shivering son was revealed, he stuffed his face into her shoulder and wept. She hugged him tightly. “What happened?” She asked me again this time with emphasis.

I explained my poorly planned solution, as she was trying to smooth away our little one’s sobbing. It took us nearly an hour to calm him and get him back to sleep. My wife contemplated his red face and quickly blackening eye. She then looked at me, shook her head, and returned to our room. So that is how, at the cost of a black eye and possible future therapy sessions, my son was cured of getting out of bed for a long time.

I smile every time I think of this story, even as I shake my head at my poor judgment. Parenting is tough, but rewarding. I thank God for my little ones each day. He is the perfect father and has entrusted these little ones to my imperfect care. I also thank Him for not jumping out at me with his best ogre impression (which I imagine is pretty good) and scaring me into running into a door when I’m bad. At least he’s not done that so far…