Some friends of ours had a party at their lake cottage down the road last night. It started around six, with the idea of eating around 6:30 p.m. Cubby goes to bed at 7 p.m. It was only about 15 minutes away, so I figured we could go, Cubby would play with the other kids for a little while, maybe eat something, and then A. could stay while I took Cubby home to put him to bed, returning to the party myself after the MiL got home from her party.
So we went, there was a child's-size tractor for Cubby to play with; he chased around a soccer ball some older boys were smacking with hockey sticks; there were cats all over the place for him to coo over . . . in short, we were having a good time. So when A. said there was a portable crib in the cottage that we could use for Cubby to fall asleep in, I went against my better judgement and agreed to try it.
It was dark and quiet in the room the crib had been set up in. Cubby was very tired, he had eaten a good dinner. There was no reason on earth he shouldn't have just gone right to sleep. And no way in hell he was going to.
I gave it about 10 minutes before I pulled a very unhappy Cubby out of the crib, strapped a now-screaming Cubby into his car seat, drove him the 15 minutes home and deposited him in his own crib. Thirty seconds after reaching that safe haven, he was asleep.
Lesson learned. Cubby will be home for his bedtime or there will be no bedtime. Duly noted.