Probably the saddest thing Walter does these days is try soooo hard not to be put to bed. He’ll be tired and cranky and maybe crying and I’ll say something like, “Uh-oh, Walty, I think maybe you are tired. It’s time for bed, sweetie.” And he will look at me in wide-eyed terror and scream “No! No! I not tired! I not go to bed righ’ now, OK???” And I’ll say cheerfully, “But honey, you are so cranky and see how you’re crying and you feel bad? That means you’re tired!” (Because, you see, I know how effective that kind of logic is on kids.) And first he’ll give me a look of disgust before turning and running away but when that doesn’t work out he’ll take a few shaky breaths and wipe his eyes with open palms and say in this stab-you-in-the-stomach little voice, “I better now, Mommy. I better.” And if that doesn’t knock over your tough-mommy tower of blocks, then I don’t know what will. So I let him play until the process starts over again (around 3 minutes) and this time I forcibly pull him from the room all while he’s shouting, “I better now, Mommy!!! I better! I be-heh-heh-terrrrrrr!!!!”

And it all seems strangely reminiscent of the following… (beware of naughty word at :52)

I feel happy! I feel happy!