Connor has mastered the bedtime delaying techniques. He requests more books and stories from Ed, just one more song from me, and is up and down until he realizes Ed or I are about to blow a gasket. And then, his finale move is to dart across the hall and jump into my bed. He's clever enough to scrunch himself up against the far wall so that Ed has the maximum amount of difficulty tossing Connor back into his own bed.
All I can say is, good thing your cute, buster, because you're wearing our patience thin some nights.
And Helen, the vomit...when will it stop?!?