The Bedtime Routine Survival Guide: For dads who are winging it.

By Chris Livemore

"Everyone has a plan, til they get punched in the mouth" - Mike Tyson. I feel that famous quote applies extremely well to children's bedtimes...

I wish I had this information approximately three years ago, before I discovered (the hard way) that the phrase "right, it is bedtime" functions far less as an actual instruction and much more as a starting pistol for the most elaborate series of delaying tactics that the entire history of human civilisation has ever known.

A battle of wills. There really is only one winner (unless you have more than one child, in which case there are multiple winners, all under 4ft in height).

Nobody tells you this. The parenting books, or should that now be Instagram and TikTok influences, discuss sleep routines and screen time, white noise machines and an awful lot of nonsense. None of them mention the negotiation phase, the milk request, or the last minute life or death question that simply must have an answer or the end of the world is nigh.

Here's a honest guide to surviving bedtime. For dads who are doing their best and would appreciate some solidarity and to know that we are all in the same situation. Together.

Stage One:The Declaration (6:45pm)

"Right. Ten minutes and then it's up stairs for bedtime." This seems like it should be a straightforward position statement - you are going to be upstairs in ten minutes. No, that isn't what this is. Instead it is an opening position in a negotiation with a very aggressive/hard-bargaining negotiator.

Your child knows this. You know this. It is like walking too close to a hungry crocodile, knowing exactly what is going to happen.

The gap between the declaration and actual bedtime is determined by a complex combination of factors including: how tired the child is, how much they've eaten, whether anyone has mentioned anything interesting on the way up the stairs, whether they have seen a bug in the house, how many days until it is Christmas and whether it is actually really bedtime or you are trying to trick them.

Survival tip: Move the declaration ten minutes earlier than you actually mean it. Give yourself negotiating room. You will need all of it, besides children up until the age of maybe 6 have no real perception of time. Ten minutes could be 2 minutes, they wouldn't really know. Use this against them. White lies do not hurt people.

Stage Two: The Bath Negotiation (6:55pm)

The bath is either wonderful or a disaster with no middle ground. Children who refused to get in the bath will refuse to get out of it. Children who are not due a bath will request one. Children who had a bath yesterday will claim they have never had a bath in their lives. Children who asked for a bath ten minutes ago, really meant that they would like a shower. Children who asked for a shower actually meant they would like a bath.

The goal is clean child, dry child, child in pyjamas. The route to this goal involves more water on the floor than is strictly necessary. Seeing whether the child can spit water further today than they did yesterday. Deciding that a great game is to see how wet they can get their dad before bath time is over. Weeing. And yes, sometimes poop.

Survival tip: Put the towel somewhere within reach before the bath starts. You will be standing in a puddle holding a wet child while looking for a towel very soon. Remove this variable while you still can. Alternatively, hose them down in the garden, a tactic that does not work so well in the winter months, but the weather is fine in the UK for hose use most of the year.

Stage Three: The PJ Selection (7:10pm)

The pyjamas are never quite the right ones. The right ones are in the wash, or at the bottom of the drawer, are covered in egg, or simply do not exist and the child has decided that tonight is the night they are necessary.

Allow two minutes for this part of the process. Tell them that they can wear the PJs that they want tomorrow if you are struggling and hope that they develop a mild amnesia so they forget about the promise of PJs that have real life fairy wings and rainbows, or turn you into a ninja.

Survival tip: The PJs do not actually matter. Select any set with confidence and move on before anyone has time to form an opinion. The key is getting them into PJs - once that has been achieved you have won this round.

Stage Four: Reading (7:12pm)

This is the fun part. The important part. The part that makes a difference to a child. The bit that makes getting soaked totally worth it.

One book is a must, possibly two and on most nights three. Ideally something with a strong rhythm and sound effects, because the sound effects keep everyone awake and I am convinced that the rhythm carries the child toward sleep faster than almost anything else on the planet (especially white noise machines) - or they might just find me boring.

Either way, they should, at some point, fall asleep.

Read at full volume. Do the silly voices. Don't worry about being good at it, no child in the history of bedtime has asked a parent to read more quietly, have a less silly voice or with less commitment. They are not going to ask you either - your significant other might, but ignore that. Your neighbours might enquire about the sound effects, but that really is up to your local council to investigate.

This is your ten minutes, the ten minutes that matter more than almost anything else you do all day - make it count. It is worth it.

Survival tip: If you fall asleep mid-book, your child will almost certainly finish the page for you, or draw on you. This means they have learned it by heart. This is not a failure. This is a success. And also do not have any pens within easy reach of a child's bedroom (this is particularly pertinent when it comes to permanent marker pens).

Stage Five: Milk (7:35pm)

You have done the reading. You have done the lights. Your child has shut their eyes and you are sure that you have heard a slight snore. You get up (or more likely crawl towards the door on all fours). You think about opening it up and maybe getting downstairs to do something exciting, like clean the dishes or get the bins ready. But then...

"Daddy. I need milk."

There is always milk. It is the same level of guarantee as the sun rising in the morning. There is no actual need for milk, it is another cleverly deployed delaying tactic.

Survival tip: Leave a small cup of milk on the bedside table before the reading begins. Acknowledge it during the reading. You will still be asked for milk. But this way you can avoid heading back downstairs - another small victory for the dad.

Stage Six: The life or death questions (7:42pm)

This arrives just as you are trying to escape the room for the second time, just as the door is closing.

"Daddy, where has your hair gone?"

"Daddy, we have arm pits, do we have leg pits?"

"Daddy, why do crabs look like crabs?"

"Daddy, what were the olden days like?"

"Daddy, what do ants taste like?"

"Daddy, did I have a bath tonight?"

"Daddy, if I were a shark could I eat you?"

This list could go on and on and on. They are questions I have had in the last maybe 6 nights alone. I have five years of good content. However, the best response is to sit back down, take it seriously, and give the best answer you have. Not because you know the answer. Because a child who asks questions at bedtime is a child whose mind is turning over the world, processing it, making sense of it.

That is exactly what bedtime reading is supposed to do.

You don't have to answer perfectly. You just have to be there.

Survival tip: Make sure that the Alexa they have in their room is switched off so they cannot find out that you are wrong.

Final Completion Time approx.. 9.17pm (time for bed).

Bedtime takes longer than you plan. That's just the way it goes. It always involves more milk than is strictly necessary, which will undoubtedly lead to a few toilet breaks throughout the night too. But the main point is you got there, you survived and had fun reading with your child(ren). Every wins.

It wont always be perfect. Occasionally you may fall asleep before they do. And very often you will say "ten more minutes" knowing full well you mean thirty-five. You've got this dads - make the most of the enjoyment and the magic that reading books brings to children, it wont last forever.

Join Jack's Shield Wall at thegoodknightbook.com/shield-wall. New members this month receive a free Guide to Medieval Insults — excellent for the Existential Question phase. "Thou art a prating clodpole" buys approximately ninety additional seconds before they ask another one. 🏰⚔️