Sunday, May 10, 2020


Zoë's very-special, make-you-so-strong, peach-flavoured, super-yummy "vitamins" arrived the other day and, eager to try them out, Andrew gave her one just before family prayer. She loved everything about it—the flavour, that it was special for her, that it was making her feel "strong."

We carried on with our bedtime routine. She brushed my hair while I read Harry Potter to the kids (she loves to put a billion barrettes in my hair every evening) and then, once Alexander was asleep, she happily climbed into her own bed for personal reading time.

"I will tell you when it's time to turn off your reading lamp," I told her. "And then I will tuck you in and sing you a song."

So I left her reading and sat down to do some work on my computer (I've been learning Adobe Premiere Pro, splicing together clips of our primary children tossing balls to make it look like they're playing catch with each other). At 9:30 I went to tell her it was definitely time for bed, but I was surprised to find that she'd already turned off her reading light and was very nearly asleep, though she still wanted a lullaby.

"You turned off your light," I observed.

"I am just so sleepy," she sighed.

"Then you'd better go to sleep," I said softly, brushing some hair off her forehead and stifling some laughter. I was feeling an odd mixture of guilt and euphoria. Guilt because those "vitamins" are 100% melatonin gummies. Euphoria because Zoë decided on her own (more or less (I mean, I drugged her...but whatever)) to go to sleep!

She did the same thing tonight. Before I even told her to go to sleep she clicked off her light and said, "Well, that's enough personal reading time for me!" and settled down on her pillow.

This coming from the girl who has hardly gone to sleep before midnight for the past month!

We'll see if we can't help her get onto a better schedule and then ease her off of the melatonin but for's working miracles!

* Years ago there was a PSA on television about melanoma (or cancer in general but including melanoma). It featured, in one brief frame, a woman who was working in her garden (or suntanning?) and the voiceover warned her about the risk of melanoma and she just lowers her sunglasses and says, "Mela-whatta?" and, ummmm, it's just one of those lines that will be seared into my memory forever. It's the important things, you know.

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