I am absolutely convinced that bedtime is the longest hour of the day. Don’t get me wrong, I love the time with my kids, but once the bedtime routine starts my mind latches onto it like its an express train running on its track and there are no local stops. There’s a routine. It should be followed. And we should be done. So tonight when I got the boys to bed, I decided to install our new carseat for Baby E. I’m outside wrestling with all the straps and latches and I look up and Big E is staring down from his window with tears running down his face. I go inside, head up to his room where he informs me that he is scared of being alone. As a compromise I tell him he can watch me from the window if he gets scared but he is absolutely not allowed to call me back upstairs and he needs to crawl into bed soon. So I head back down and finish. Once inside again I hear him in his room playing. Again, I tell him he needs to go to bed. Finally Tim and C get home from church and Big E is still up and complaining and using every stalling tactic in his arsenal. At this point it has been two hours since he first laid down. Ugh! Thankfully the arrival of his sister calmed him enough to finally settle. They are going to be exhausted tomorrow!