Once upon a time, I had a toddler boy. A rowdy, full-of-energy, curious, climbing little boy. A nearly-two-year old boy who was occupying the crib that his getting-too-big-for-cradle sister needed. There was an obvious, or so we thought, solution to this dilemma. Enter the "big boy bed".
Mama and Daddy made Corban a sweet new room with a sweet new bed, clad with covers and all. Have I mentioned, though, that said toddler hates covers? Oh, well he does. Since the day he was born, in case you were wondering. He managed to unswaddle himself at a day old, and wouldn't stand for a blanket on him from that moment on. Anyway, if I were a toddler, I'd be so excited at the prospect of an un-cagelike bed. But apparently that's just me...
So we gear Corban up for the tranfer. "Oh, you're big boy bed is so neat!" "Look at that cool pillow with the bear prints on it!" "You can even look out your window!" "Covers!" "Freedom!" Ahem. Maybe we should've left that last word out.
Day number one went a lot like this: Put Corban in bed. Turn around, walk to door, turn back around and put Corban in bed. Go downstairs. Listen to numerous thuds and wait for tears. When they don't come, stay put. When the thud is really loud, run upstairs holding breath for fear of what just 'thudded'. Put Corban back in bed. Go downstairs. Go upstairs. Put Corban in bed... and so on and so forth. It went just like that for two and a half hours. Yes ma'am. I climbed up and down the stairs for that long. And then finally, with tears in his eyes and nary a hair on my head left, I cuddled up next to him, sang Jesus loves me twice, and off to dreamland he went. Victory!
I prepped myself for Day 2 of nap time with a venti latte from Starbucks. (I ordered a tall, just so you know, but they messed up - to my benefit!). I tell Corban the whole way home about going to bed in his big boy bed, to which he responds with his new favorite word: No. Oh boy. Not the reaction I was looking for. However, when I went into the crib room to get his paci (Yes, he still takes one), he said, "No- big boy!". I proceeded to put him in bed, prayed with him, shut the gate, and walked out. I got wrapped up in a phone call, but was listening for those thuds and/or tears, but they never came. Sure, I heard him walking and jibberjabbing, but it was in his sleepy voice and didn't want to risk distracting him by going to see what he was doing. 30 minutes pass and I hear nothing. Nothing at all. Silence. What?! I tiptoe up the stairs, creep around the corner and cover my mouth to stifle my laugh.
There was my little boy, sound asleep, blankie snuggled under arm, facedown...
on his wood floor.
Right by the door.
In front of the gate.
The sweetest thing I've ever seen.
Okay- maybe not. But it was precious and priceless. I snapped a picture on my cellphone, but apparently am cellphone illiterate and can't figure out how to upload it onto my computer. I went back up an hour and a half later to try and get a picture with the camera, but he was semi-awake and sat up upon my arrival. Shucks.
Anyway, I'd considered day two a success. It took far less time, and didn't involve me at all. Maybe this transition will be easier than I thought afterall. We'll see what tomorrow brings.
Thus concludes todays story.