Setting: First night in barbados. Bedtime. {read: jet lag, tired children, and EXHAUSTED pregnant mommy in a Hilton Hotel room with one fluffy, beckoning king sized bed. Emerson is already asleep in the hotel pack-n-play}

Aiden: I don't want to go to sleeeeepppp! {delaying the inevitable in his delirium.}

Me: Why not?

Aiden: I want to sleep on the floooooooorrrrrr! 

Me: Aiden. You are going to sleep in the bed with mommy. {read: I don't feel like making you a palette when I know you won't sleep in it for long, because the floor is hard. You will then wake Emerson in the process, because as soon as I prepare said palette, you will be up, informing me you no longer wish to sleep on the floor but in a hammock suspended from the ceiling with 1000 thread count egyptian cotton sheets. You WILL sleep in the bed with me like a normal child}

Aiden: NOOOOOOOOOOO! {obnoxious wailing nearly penetrates the sound barrier of the noise machine we wisely packed, almost waking Emerson.}

I now have two choices. I can (a.) attempt to rationalize with an exhausted three year old, {read: moronic} or (b.) I can force him to sleep in the bed with me. {read: idiotic wailing is sure to ensue} Neither one of these are doeable: Tight spaces=noise for everyone involved (family) in adjoining room. Did I mention I was exhausted?  

I went with option C. 

Me: Aiden. We are not in America anymore. America is where we are from. This is Barbados. It's another country. 

Aiden: Puzzled, I-don't-really-care kind of look. 

Me: Because we are in another place, did you know that there are big spiders and snakes that come out at night on the floor that will get you if you don't sleep in the bed with mommy?

Aiden: Eyes as wide as saucers, promptly walks to the bed and climbs in. Not another word. 

Problem solved. Both of us snoozing happily within five minutes. No long term repercussions. 

Call me a lying, horrible mother. Call me brilliant.

Either way, I know deep down I scored another two hours of sleep that night.

I won.