The Last Word

I suppose I am the root of the problem, as I have relied on devoted L to tuck the girls into bed every night. With his just-recent absence from the household, I, naturally, must perform all his duly-assigned tasks. Maybe it's because I don't have that deep booming voice L manages to project, or that "Ochoa look" all blood members of the clan seem to possess, but I'd like to think I can conjure a mighty frightening image myself. At least enough so that my children would automatically tuck their tiny little tails between their legs in fright.
My boy, at ten years, is the wiser of the three since he's had enough years under his belt to learn to the many caustic looks of mom and their respective translations. Liv, the baby, is wholly reliant on the cuteness factor, and is all too aware of the effectiveness of the chosen method. Soph, however, is at that age in which her knowledge of right and wrong are concrete, although the character perched on her shoulder with horns on its head almost always seems to win out. This is never more evident than bedtime...

Me: Sophie, you need to stop wriggling around and talking. When you talk and make noise, Liv won't go to sleep.
Sophie: But, Mom, I need to tell you one more thing.
Me: What is it?
Sophie: I want to be a lion. I don't want to be human.
Me: I'm sorry you feel that way, I love you just the way you are. If you become a lion, you won't be my little girl anymore.
Sophie: I like to ROAR!
Me: That's enough. You need to go to sleep. Close your eyes, be quiet, and stop fidgeting.
Sophie: But, MOM-
Me: Nope, that's enough. Shush.
Sophie: But-
Me: Nope, quiet time.
Sophie: I'll whis-
Me: Nope! Quit it, Sophie!
Sophie: Mom!
Me: I'll stick you in the garage where little lions sleep, Sophie! Shush up!

This struggle continues until I blow up and yell, to which the angel demands an apology for hurting her feelings. Eventually, they do fall asleep, but not ever until I am frazzled beyond words and exhausted.

What are your struggles with the kiddies at bedtime?