Yesterday, Alex crashed at 2:30 (which is 10:30pm UK time), and Alicia fell asleep at 4pm (midnight in the UK). We figured we'd let them nap and then let them stay up a little bit later, hoping that would help put them on CA time.
Six came rolling around, and nothing we could do could budge either one of them.
Both of them turned into giant slugs, completely devoid of muscle control and eyes refusing to open as we did everything we could to try and wake them. Finally, we got Alicia to stir, but Alex was fighting us every step of the way.
So I resorted to the one phrase that pretty much guarantees some sort of response from him. I leaned over and whispered, "Ice cream."
See, there's a Cold Stone just feet away from our house. Our logic was that he'd wake up enough to eat ice cream, the sugar would help us keep him going and everything would be fine. It almost worked out like that, though it took us nearly a half hour after the initial suggestion to get him moving.
I am *so* not getting any Mommy of the Year awards for bribing my kid with ice cream for supper in hopes of getting him sugared up to stay awake.