Simon's Bedtime Story

[Bertha]

A letter that was sent to PPM. Beatrice requests advice.

Dear Nanny Smackbottom

I thought you might like to know about the infantile lifestyle I impose on my nephew Simon. He was in great danger of going off the rails and ruining his life before I became involved and introduced him to an early bedtime and pyjama punishment regime.

Now he goes to bed on school nights at 6.30. I collect him from school at 3.30 as if he was a preschooler always ensuring he holds my hand all the way home.

If it is chilly weather I make sure he wears the mittens I knitted for him and as soon as we arrive home I supervise his bath time. I insist upon bathing him as one would a small child. Using a washcloth and a sponge to ensure I clean every nook and cranny. Of course, he complains and wants to wash by himself as if he were a big boy, but a few sharp slaps on his bare bottom soon stops such nonsense.

After bath time I immediately dress Simon in his pyjamas ready for bed. My neighbours Miss Freda Fulbright and her sister Felicity, make his pyjamas especially for him. They choose ridiculously babyish patterned flannel material of brushed cotton to sew his pyjamas, these are also made a size too large for him so as to enhance his babyish appearance when wearing them. My particular favourites are his yellow Teddy bear pyjamas and his blue Thomas the Tank Engine ones and I can tell you that Simon absolutely hates wearing them. He especially dislikes his Teddy Bear jim-jams, he looks so crestfallen each afternoon as I button him into his cute little boy pyjamas, often begging to be allowed to put daytime clothes on but I quickly remind him that all little boys have to get ready for beddy-byes after their baths and he is no exception.

Once he is safely dressed in his pyjamas, Simon goes across my knee for his first bedtime spanking. I like to spank him as soon as he is in his pyjamas to remind him of his little boy status. He then settles down to complete his homework until I call him for his supper at 5.30. His supper is taken perched in his high chair, I tie a bib around his neck to keep his pj's clean and serve him nutritious meals in a plastic dish and spoon as metal cutlery is far too dangerous for little boys to use. I am afraid Simon makes rather a mess as he eats because I fasten on him his mealtime mittens, making his ability to use his plastic utensil somewhat limited. Consequently, I have to spoon cold food from his bib into his mouth which he detests, turning his face away from the spoon as I encourage him to open up the tunnel for the choo-choo train.

This often initiates one of Simon's tantrums, broccoli and carrots are often sprayed about the kitchen as he waves his mitten-clad hands about petulantly. I am afraid I have to chastise him with a spell of corner time.

After I have let him down from his high chair and removed his mealtime mittens, I position him in the corner making him stand with hands on head and his nose pressed against the wall while I clean the kitchen.

At six o’clock I send him up to wash and brush his teeth and he comes straight back to present himself to me with his hands by his side, it is then that I inspect my little soldier. I ensure he has cleaned his teeth correctly and that his face and hands are clean then I make sure his pyjamas are buttoned up correctly and that he has his slippers on properly. Unfortunately, I always find a problem with his appearance and am forced to take him across my knee for a second bedtime spanking.
 
For his second spanking, I always lower his pyjamas and redden his bottom for him with one of his own slippers, afterwards though I take him up onto my lap and he receives a cuddle from aunty. Then it is time for his bedtime protection. Simon requires a nappy at bedtime because of his early bedtimes, the poor little boy is always wet in the morning.

I spread his nappy out and cream and powder him, Simon seems to enjoy this part of his bedtime routine the most and I often have to calm him down before I can fasten the tabs on his nappy and pull up his pyjama bottoms.

He looks so sweet, waddling about nappied wearing his oversized Teddy Bear pyjamas and slippers. After I have dressed him for bed it is time for his sleepy time milk. He drinks this from a sippy cup sitting on my lap after which I take him by the hand and lead him upstairs to tuck him into bed.

His bedroom is strictly functional, no electronic distractions whatsoever, just a small babyish two foot six wide bed made up with bedding bearing similarly childish motifs as his pyjamas. His curtains are made from a thick blackout material to ensure no daylight can penetrate once they are fully drawn. This is particularly helpful during the lighter nights when Simon is petulant about being put to bed early when it is still light out.

There is also a chair that I sit upon to read him his nigh-night story, the story I read each bedtime is the same every time called Down On The Farm.

"Farmer Giles goes to feed his pigs, the pigs are very pleased to see him, how do the pigs greet Farmer Giles?" I begin each time.

Simon lies tucked up tightly in bed wearing his nappy and little boy pyjamas and very reluctantly replies, "Oink, oink!"

Farmer Giles then visits the ducks, the hens and also his sheep. Each time Simon knows I expect to hear him reply without hesitation.

"Quack, quack", "cluck, cluck" and "baa baa". I love how his cheeks redden as I praise him.

"What a clever boy you are, but now it's time to snuggle down and go straight to sleepy-byes."  As I bend over to kiss him night-night I pop his dummy into his mouth, it took a long while for Simon to come to terms with using it but now he always wants his dum-dum at bedtime.

On Friday night the routine is exactly the same, he is bathed and dressed in his pyjamas as usual. I did experiment with letting him stay up until seven o’clock but he became tired and irritable so I reverted back to his normal weekday bedtime.

Miss Fulbright and her sister visit for afternoon tea at four o'clock on the last Saturday of the month. They so look forward to seeing Simon dressed in the babyish pyjamas they kindly make for him and Freda and Felicity particular enjoy listening to Simon sing and recite night-night songs for them. To enhance his sense of embarrassment I have a special singing stool for him to stand on as he performs.

When the doorbell rings Simon is already dressed for bed wearing his nappy and babyish pyjamas. As I have taught him, he rushes excitedly to hug Aunty Felicity and Aunty Freda as soon as they enter the lounge and they enjoy fussing over him, taking it in turns setting him on their laps and telling him how cute and babyish he looks wearing his Teddy Bear pyjamas.

Even now, he does still become a little shy at all the attention he receives which is why I always pin his dummy to his pyjama jacket when they visit. Quite often he has popped in his dummy without realising he has done so which is quite sweet to witness.

Once I have served tea and Simon has sipped his sleepy time milk, I place his singing stool into the centre of the room, it is only small and he is no more than ten inches above the floor but he still is a little tentative and I have to hold his hand to help him up.

The sisters sit expectantly with their hands resting comfortably in the lap of their skirts and wearing their usual prim, delicate white blouses.

I always have to help Simon to begin.

“After three. One and two and three!”

His voice quivers a bit at first and he looks to me for encouragement.

He begins with a recital.

“Wee Willie Winkie runs through the town,
Upstairs and downstairs in his nightgown,
Tapping at the window, crying at the lock,
Are the children in their bed, for it’s past six o’clock?”

He recites two verses and the Fulbright sisters clap enthusiastically and then resume their neat postures in expectation of further entertainment.

Simon has by now gained a little confidence as once again I encourage him to begin, this time singing a well-known favourite.

“Twinkle, twinkle, little star,
How I wonder what you are.
Up above the world so high,
Like a diamond in the sky.

When the blazing sun is gone,
When he nothing shines upon,
Then you show your little light,
Twinkle, twinkle, all the night.”

As he performs, he looks up and raises his arms as he sings the words, “up above the world so high.”

Of course, the ladies simply adore this and applaud once again as Simon bows ever so slightly, still a little afraid he may fall from his stool.

Next up is another recital.

“Bye, baby Bunting,
Father’s gone a-hunting,
Mother’s gone a-milking,
Sister’s gone a-silking,
Brother’s gone to buy a skin
To wrap the baby Bunting in.”

He repeats this several times all the time using a very soft babyish voice that I have taught him to use and my, how Freda and Felicity enjoy listening to his rendition, especially as they know it is nearly time for their favourite song.

I play my part by helping Simon down from his singing stool and making him bow to the ladies.

“Encore, encore,” they cheer and I assist him back onto the stool for his finale.

He pauses before beginning, once more using his soft, whispering, infantile voice.

“Rock-a-bye baby, on the treetops,
When the wind blows, the cradle will rock,
When the bough breaks, the cradle will fall,
And down will come baby, cradle and all.”

Again Simon acts out the rhyme, holding his arms out, rocking the baby as he sings. He sings the verse several times before finally, he is allowed to finish and step down with a little help from aunty.

Once again the ladies fuss over him as they hug and kiss him affectionately, telling him again what a clever little boy he is.

Soon though it is time for bed, on these special occasions he has an earlier six o’clock bedtime as Simon becomes tired quickly. At my instigation, he gives Freda and Felicity night-night hugs and kisses before they leave and I take him up the wooden hill to Bedfordshire.

I have to admit, however, that on their last visit they were left somewhat disappointed. For some reason Simon resisted my attempts to get him ready for beddy-byes and into his pair of lemon coloured, bunny rabbit footed pyjamas. I had to spank him before I could get him into them and he ended up in tears across my knee and was still sobbing when the Misses Fulbright arrived, I am afraid I had no choice other than to put him straight to bed.

It was such a shame, as he looked so sweet in his new bunny jim-jams that the Fulbright's had just sewed for him. They were obviously disappointed at not being able to fuss over him, Instead, they could only wave him off to bed as he was far too fractious for night-night kisses.

I did, however, promise to visit them one afternoon with Simon wearing his bunny rabbit jammies to make it up to them which is another story.

Simon will shortly be eighteen and finished with his schooling. I had intended to loosen the apron strings so to speak but now, as the time approaches, I feel that it would be so much better to keep Simon in his current little boy regime and perhaps enhance it so that he becomes my permanent little boy.

Should I keep him confined to his present early bedtime routine or not?  I would appreciate any advice nanny Smackbottom.

 Perhaps you think I am being too harsh? Below is his bedtime routine. 

Summation of Simons current pyjama and bedtime regime.

Monday-Saturday

Pyjamas on by 4 pm, first spanking 4.05 second spanking 6.05, bedtime by 6.30 pm

Saturday when the Fulbrights visit

Pyjamas on by 3 pm. Entertaining the ladies, bedtime at 6 pm.

Sunday

Pyjamas on by 3 pm first spanking 3.05 second spanking 4.30 bedtime by 5 pm as he has to be up for school.

Yours truly

Beatrice Halewood