Bedtime Battle...again

Some nights my son goes to bed just as he's asked. We read books, say prayers, and tuck him in "car blankie" first, "circle blankie" last. Some nights he asks to go to bed. Those are my favorites. Some nights are a battle. Here's tonight's story.

He was first put in bed at 8:15pm. Our bedrooms are in the basement, so we put the kids down and head back upstairs. It wasn't long before we were downstairs, silently escorting him back to his bed (he'd been playing with his sister and her laughing gave them away.) Next came his knocking on his bedroom door. It really is cute the way he knocks and says "come in". Then came the knocking on the kitchen door upstairs. Once he appeared at the office door with a piece of paper and a pen telling his dad he needed to draw. At 9:00 I found him in the room under the stairs. (He calls it his room.) At 9:30 his dad found him laying on the stairs peeking through the crack under the door. There has been the traditional requests for drinks and more stories/songs/books/movies throughout the walks back to bed inbetween being caught removing light bulbs from lamps in my room, playing cars on the bathroom floor, stacking cans in the food storage room, and pulling all the clothes out of his dresser.

R could probably get away with his mischief if he didn't choose to sneak upstairs. Occasionally there is a loud thump or bang, but more often we hear his singing/talking or his sister's cries/laughter. I've been sent to the basement to do my blogging on the laptop in our bedroom. You know, something about my proximity keeping him in bed. For the most part it just causes more requests to sleep in "Momdad bed" and "help you type letters." We've taken him back to bed laughing, crying, yelling, singing, and silent.

E and I are both night owl people, so it shouldn't be surprising that he could be one, too. I remember watching MASH and Night Court after the 10 o'clock news from the hallway WAY before I was allowed. We fight to keep smiles off our faces, and fight the urge to just pick him up and toss him in our bed to watch a show on the laptop.

For the record: I know that we're in the bedtime war with all other parents, and I know this too shall pass. I don't write looking for sympathy or advice, just maybe to make you smile because you've been there, are there, or will be there someday.
PS- I've taken him back to be 12, no 13 times while I've written this.