The water was never about water.
Bedtime is the first moment in fourteen hours when nothing is happening. No noise, no next thing, nobody talking, nothing to look at. For a great many children that is not restful. It is the first time all day that there is room for everything they have been outrunning.
And it all arrives at once, in the dark, in the wrong order. The thing that happened at lunchtime. The person who said the thing. Something about tomorrow that cannot be sorted out tonight. A child who has not asked a single difficult question all day will ask four of them between eight and nine, and it is not a coincidence.
Then there is the body. Lying still in the dark is one of the hardest physical tasks a small child is asked to do, and it is asked of them at the point in the day when they have least left.
And underneath all of it, the one people find hardest to hear: you are leaving. Every request on that landing is, underneath, a way of checking that you are still at the bottom of the stairs.
What is in it:

• What is actually in the queue - the unresolved thing from lunchtime, tomorrow, the body itself, and you
• Why an earlier bedtime gives you a longer landing rather than a shorter one
• Why answering every request properly rewards the thing you are trying to end
• Two things deliberately not on the list of mistakes: lying down with them, and going back up
• Moving the questions earlier, so most of what would have come out on the landing comes out at six instead
• Coming back before they call - a child who knows you are coming does not need to check
• Having one sentence and never changing it
• Something heavy before the bath, and why the last twenty minutes should be dull
• What to say on the landing, and two that keep it going
• Whose evening it is, and the quiet resentment in two-adult houses that nobody says out loud
• The guilt about wanting it over, which is close to universal

Not a sleep method. No schedule, and no promise about half past seven.
They are not stalling because they do not want to sleep. They are stalling because sleep is where the day catches up with them, and you are not there for it.
"Say the same thing. Go down."
For the parent, not the child. Sixty-four pages, small enough for a coat pocket.
This book supports everyday emotional awareness. It is not a screening tool and it is not a substitute for professional guidance.
From the Little Signals world: quiet stories and tools that help small humans notice their signals and find their way back to steady. No quick fixes. No hype. Regulation before optimisation.