The Biscuit's bedtime has become madness. Developmentally-appropriate madness, but still crazy. Some days, I can handle it calmly. When I forget to take a breath because I'm preoccupied by the things I'd like to do, the husband I miss, and worries about who the President is going to bomb next, I do not handle it calmly. Calm is not my default setting when frustrated. (Humiliatingly, my default setting when frustrated looks a lot more like the President's.)
But here's the thing: I badly don't want the Biscuit to make his choices based on other people's anger. I don't want him to chose out of fear. Self-defeating as it might seem, I want the little dickens to keep popping out of bed for a while, so that he and I can practice working alongside each other, even when I feel angry. I fervently hope that conflict and frustration continue, and that I handle myself in such a way that my child does not become submissive in response to it.
The same struggle, over and over again, is a chance to practice. I did not start out with much innate talent, but if I take the opportunity to use these drills, I might wind up a patience virtuoso. Or at least finally catch up with average.