I never went to bed willingly.
Thus, I have to assume that if I ever had kids, I would have the same nightly standoffs with them as my parents did with me.I was reminded of that once again tonight. Eenie, my dog, was napping woozily beside me on the couch. I turned off the TV and looked at her.
"Eenie," I said. Suddenly her dog head was held high, her little dog eyes alert.
"Eenie, is it time to go to bed?"
She instantly raised herself up, trotted over to her crate, nudged the door open with her snout, and curled up inside it.
I think the first time I said to myself, "Yeah, actually, I think I will go to bed," I was nineteen. Eenie understands maybe a dozen words, but "bed" is undoubtedly one of them. Almost every night, no matter if it's 9PM or 4AM, trot-nudge-curl.
Sometimes she dissents, of course. If it's still light outside, she does a double-take: look at the bed, look at me, really? Bed? If she's feeling rebellious, she'll try to fake me out and, at the last second, jump to the pillow atop her crate instead of lying down inside it. (Technically, the pillow is also "bed." She has an enviable bunk scenario.) I can tell when she's really miffed because first she'll stomp a circle into a couch cushion and lie down there, then she'll jump up to the pillow, and finally she'll retreat and slouch into bed. Oh, bed. She fools no one.
Also tipping the scale in the dog versus kid comparison? She stays in her crate all night and doesn't make a sound until I let her out in the morning. No crying in the wee hours, no tiptoeing across the hall to summon me, no sunrise awakenings. I love Eenie forever and ever for her superior bed-iquette.