2 boys.
2 beds.
1 room.
2 sides of the room.
1 sound machine.
2 nightlights.
2 parents.
The numbers make it seem so simple. Place Boy B into bed in Boy A's room. Pat, pat. Lullaby. Kiss, kiss. Goodnight.
Not so fast. Oh, Peter how you did spoil us! Moving you into the big boy bed/room was a gradual process but one that went very smoothly, if memory serves. Perhaps that's the problem. Perhaps my memory is shot. Because common sense doesn't seem to be guiding me very well these days.
Naptime is atrocious. All he wants to do is play so he's restless and
active for an hour or more before he finally gives in, and that's only
if I've not already given up and left him in the baby bed. After the
bedtime struggle that includes at least one follow-through on the threat
to take him back to the baby bed (pure torture in his mind now that
he's tasted sweet freedom), he finally settles down for the night.... or
the majority of the night. Poor Hayes is the light sleeper of our
partnership so he's dealing with the early rising while I snooze through
to morning. Bless that man.
Davis has spent countless hours in there. It's his favorite room in the house. Nothing new except he's allowed to have his blanket in there with him. Well, that and his brother is snoozing 8 feet away. As in, Peter is comatose under his pillow fort, oblivious to the up-down-shake the curtains-knock over books-climb out of bed and peek out the door then run back to bed giggling as soon as the grown-ups head down the hallway-kind of game we've been playing here lately. At least one of us is getting good sleep, right?
2 weeks into this process and I'm ready to move to a house with another bedroom. Why oh why did we sacrifice that other bedroom for a bathroom?! Oh yeah, so I could fit into the shower at 7 months pregnant [among many other reasons]. Silly, silly me. Clearly not thinking ahead.
Onward we trudge. With the bebe coming in just over 2 months, I've got incentive and willpower. Even Davis can't compete with me there!
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