Chickie goes to bed. The Engineer and I hang out downstairs, watching TV. At some point one of us glances upstairs and says with a sigh, "The bathroom light is on."
Either he or I gets up, and climbs the stairs. In the bathroom is Chickie, in her PJs, looking at books.
She's pretty smart. I mean, she's disobeying us, but how mad are we really gonna get, if she's gotten out of bed not to play, but to broaden her intellectual horizons?
We tuck her back in, telling her in a stern voice she needs to stay in bed. We tell her if she leaves the room again, we'll have to close the baby gate in her doorway. That usually works.
Last night, after this entire process had played itself out, I realized there was once again a light on upstairs. The Engineer headed up there and came back a minute later with a smile. He informed me that he hadn't closed her gate, because Chickie had obeyed him. He'd told her not to leave her room, and she hadn't. She'd even stayed in bed--after she'd turned on the light in her room and grabbed a book. She'd managed to find a way to stay within the letter of the law while still doing exactly what she wanted to do.
I don't think I want her to keep "reading." She's a little too smart already.