Milk is like currency in our house, and I spend it liberally.
It buys me extra time in bed on weekend mornings, like this morning when C woke up at 6 a.m. Does he not know it’s the weekend? And I’m on vacation this week? 6 a.m. is not acceptable. So I bartered – a bottle of milk for quiet time in bed.
It buys a nap – usually – which is something that’s very, very valuable. We’ve been known to offer a free refill if it’s required to finalize the transaction, too.
For a long time, milk was the ticket to a little bit of peace at the 4 pm witching hour. We’ve decided to save our dairy dollars, though, in an effort to get him to actually eat something at dinner. Hey, you’ve got to be fiscally prudent sometimes.
Milk at bedtime has become a habit – something that was always part of the parent-infant deal making. It’s now a stable part of our Gross National Sanity, but I think the exchange rate must have gone up significantly because we don’t get nearly as much for it as we used to. One bottle used to be worth a relatively quiet bedtime, but no more. Maybe we need to renegotiate with our banker.
Yes, that banker happens to be almost 3. And yes, he still gets milk in a bottle sometimes. The sanity of the kingdom’s rulers depends on it.
