The Late Late Show

Henrietta no longer believes in bedtime. She believes in fighting with every tool available to her until she falls asleep on the couch, watching Scooby Doo (known in this house as "Dooby") at way too late an hour. I'm not a big fan of this development, but we go through phases like this now and then, and things ought to change soon.  

Until then, we're exhausted. Sam usually volunteers to stay up with her, but it's his turn to sleep. So it's 9:36, and I've been grading papers, and we've been eating popcorn, and she's been practicing reacting to the scary parts. She runs to the couch, looking behind her frantically, gasping, and saying, "Oh no!" 

And now I'm done grading papers, and her head is on a couch pillow, and we're watching The Wizard of Oz, and she's practicing saying "witch" and I'm suddenly so happy to be sitting by her that I can hardly stand it. 

"Wish!" she says.  

"Witch!" I say. 

She points to the Wicked Witch of the West in her green face paint. The witch is very upset. Henrietta says, "Wishttt! Whisht! Whiiisht!" She sits up, gets very close to my face, and says it again, clearly prompting me to say it back. 

It occurs to me that it's a funny word to learn by saying it in someone else's face. "Witch," I tell her, slowly, and she watches my lips and my teeth carefully to see how it's done.

She settles her head back on the pillow. "Wisht," she says, satisfied. She's beginning to show signs of slowing down. She's placing the small bottoms of her feet against the bottoms of mine. Soon she'll sleep, I hope. I hope that soon she'll sleep.