Lately the 'sleep wars' have hit fever pitch. Zev would push for earlier and earlier wake-up - which makes sense, since waking early meant being whisked away by mom to sleep some more downstairs. Zev's wake-up slid towards 4:30. Ben, for his part, realized that waking up early, while Zev was still napping with mom, meant uncontested iPad time. When Ben woke at 5:30 and pointed at our bedroom (and the coveted technology), Alla had it. She left Zev to snooze downstairs and took indignantly screaming Benjamin back into his room to wait out till 6 am, no iPad in sight. To paraphrase a green warrior: "began has, the sleep battle."
After several days of staying strong, not letting anyone have any morning fun, and making some painfully won progress, we deployed the secret weapon. Our secret weapon in this case was much smaller than a planet, yet plenty powerful. A colleague has informed me of an "OK to wake" light - a programmable toy that lights up at a preset time, informing the little ones that it is now acceptable to scream for mom and dad. We have indeed procured an owl, programmed it for 6:05 or so and at bed time told the boys that they have to stay asleep as long as the owl does. To my surprise, Zev has accepted the concept that his life now should be ruled by a glowing piece of plastic surprisingly easily. The real fun began at 6:05, as the owl lit up. Zev was already awake but quite, Benjamin woke as well, I imagine waiting for the owl to do something cool. It just set there, glowing green. Evidently, Zevi likes green - he too just set there, watching it, transfixed, unblinking. Benjamin looked around. Realized, for once, no one was screaming in the room, and went back to sleep with a snort. Zev spent good ten minutes meditating upon the irony of a non-nocturnal green owl, and went back to sleep as well. Alla and I looked at the each other, shrugged, and went back to sleep too. "OK to sleep" light? We'll take it.
The progress, however, was not permanent. Zev still wakes 5-15 minutes before 6 and keeping him in his bed - and his mom out of the room - until the owl-wake time is a struggle. Last night he had an exceptionally rough one, waking up three times between midnight and 6, each time going at it for 15-20 minutes. As my parents always sum things up - "any night with the two of them is better than one with you." So, we had a good night.
The other adventure of note involves Benjamin's rabbit. Last weekend, the first nice weekend of the season, we went to the zoo. The rabbit was deployed with Benjamin, to provide much needed comfort in case of new people and likely sighting of the zoo train, whose loud whistle is not welcome. For once, we were organized, took off as scheduled, and hit the zoo parking lot ten minutes before opening time. To give you an idea: as we parked, I saw roughly fifty empty spots around us. By the time Alla and I stepped out and got the kids, there were four left and each had a couple of cars aiming for it. The sudden interest in the zoo was due, in part, to the Easter weekend and the egg hunts being held. For the uninitiated: sections of the zoo lawn were cordoned off, each for an age group. Each age-line was roughly 90 minutes long. At the end of the wait, the kids, in groups of twenty, would spend good ten minutes practicing the low-start sprint while the area was re-seeded with fresh candy eggs. At the sound of the whistle, a line of screaming kids, to rival charging Scots in 'Braveheart', would run down the patch of grass and collect eggs for about five minutes. The kids, then docile, would be then ushered out and the process repeated. Rest assured, should a grown lion or a cute newborn elephant find themselves between the charging kids and the candy, they would end up as much pink fertilizer. But I digress. Having spent good two hours marveling at both people and animals, we headed home. The kids napped in the car, all seemed well.
Arriving home, we realized that Benjamin did not have his bunny in his hands. Zev was sent to sleep immediately, his blanked safely with him. Alla held anxious Ben, while I did an quick, unhappy search of the van and stroller - no bunny. Two minutes later, fleeing Ben's wrath as much as driven by a father's duty, I was in the car, speeding towards the zoo. As I approached, I realized my error. It was, by then, 12:30 and access to the zoo lot was blocked by uniformed guards. After a short search of the surrounding area I accepted my fate and drove to an overflow lot, a highway exit away. A line of families roughly a half mile long was waiting for the three school buses running the route. The next 90 minutes were spent waiting for my spot on a bus, surrounded by alternately grim and resigned parents and dangerously bored kids.
I was finally back at the zoo parking lot. I practically ran to our parking spot and commenced the ground search. This should be taking literally, as I took to kneeling among the cars and looking for the wayward bunny. As I was kneeling under yet another van, I heard "click-click-click-click" above my head. I popped up to come face to face with a family boarding their van. I quickly explained that I was looking for a lost toy and made myself as lost. I can only imagine what they thought, seeing a guy apparently crawling under their van.
My next move was to try "lost and found" and failing that - to bluff my way back into the zoo (naturally, I left the ticket stubs at home) and try to take the place at a jog, hoping to spot the creature. In my head I was rehearsing a story that I was going to feed to Benjamin, something along the lines of the bunny moving to the zoo. I was also bracing for several very, very long days. To my surprise, the "lost and found" desk did exist and I was easily given access. An elderly guard greeted me. I said:
"I am looking for a grey bunny, looks like hell, missing one ear". I looked at his desk. "Quite possibly this one."
As he handed the bunny back to me, the guard said:
"I was going to describe it as 'very well loved'"
