a difficult bedtime

Bonzo's favorite toy today is an ancient matchbox-sized bulldozer, which he is referring to as a backhoe loader (that's the only word he knows for construction equipment). So, of course, he had to take the tiny backhoe loader to bed with him, fussing all the while that he couldn't read another story and couldn't get his blankie just right and couldn't hold the other two backhoe loaders. He finally quit the gritching, but continued to wave the little bulldozer in the air as I whispered to him to sleep. Every time I told him, "Close your eyes, night-night," he would squeeze his eyes shut, but a constant stream of words was coming from him: "Backhoe loader, backhoe loader bites the dirt, drive, drive, backhoe loader, go down Mommy (driving it down my arm) go down, go down, up, up, up, backhoe loader! Bite the dirt! Backhoe loader! Where's the backhoe loader? (hiding it behind my shoulder) Where, where? Where did it go? There it is! Backhoe loader!!"

All of this delivered in the tiniest little whisper. I kept snickering and trying hard to keep still, but he was still at it when I gave up and finally dumped him in his crib.