Pretend I've made all my excuses for not posting.
Pretend I've already gotten a bazillion comments from you saying "it's okay," and "don't worry, we know you get busy." (Also pretend you remember how to post comments.)
Pretend I've already said I'll try to post more but this working 11-that-feels-like-eighty hours a week while trying to find my lost son is causing me to slip into bed exhausted every night but not too exhausted to read four and a half pages of Harry Potter IV before I fall asleep.
Pretend all that. Then read on:
Maybe one reason Alex felt so independent at Big Waterpark the other day was because we converted his crib into a toddler bed a week ago. At almost three years old, I figured he was approaching old enough. And also I finally located the crib hardware that I haven't seen in four+ years.
I was prepared for many late nights trying to keep him from utilizing the freedom we finally gave him. I was prepared to walk him back to his bed fifty or so times every night until he collapsed from the battle. I was prepared to threaten, cajole, reward and bribe him to stay in his bed (none of which actually worked with Mickey, by the way).
Turns out that preparation was for naught: the boy has yet to get out of bed one time.
Oh, he asked all right: about 30 seconds after we laid him down the first night we heard "Can I get out now?" Beyond that, and "I need my blanket" and "Can you close my door?" this has been the least stressful thing I have done as a parent so far.
And once again it has reminded me that my kids are, indeed, two different people.
Here we go with pics:
Just before the transformation.
You'd think there's only one step involved here.
Nope, breaking down a prison wall seems to take precision work.
And a two-year-old on your back.
Almost looks like a picture frame for sleeping!
Made it through the first night unscathed (until Mickey crawled over him in the morning to share a snooze).
Holy Cow!! Pete, with tools of ANY kind...oi vey...
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