As described here recently, The Boy made his desire to transition from crib to big boy bed known last week by flipping himself over the rail and busting in on his parents’ morning ablutions. So far, it’s been fairly smooth. Most of the time he gets that he’s supposed to lie there.
There have been a couple of nap- and bedtimes in the last week where I despaired of our decision. On two occasions when I put him down, he was so wired that he was literally doing somersaults on the mattress. It was at those times that I fully realized the import of what we had done: his bed was no longer a holding pen where we could dump him against his will and slink away.
That realization felt as though something really significant – a safety net, or backup plan that we had seldom used but still relied upon – had been taken away. I remember thinking on one of those occasions, “Am I going to have to sit here like a nightclub bouncer, barring his exit until, after hours of struggle, he finally gives up and goes to sleep?”
Of course, as with almost all of my more dire parental worryings, that didn’t happen. Some nights he fights it, some nights he accepts it. He has slept through the night every night, and wakes up where we left him.
Today at nap time, though, it seemed especially touch-and-go. The Mrs was putting him down, and after quite some time (and effort) she came out into the hall, said goodnight, and sat down on the steps to see what he would do.
He called for her for quite a while. Then we heard the sound of him trying to defeat the slippy plastic childproof door handle anti-turning devices. Then we heard a short burst of determined footsteps. Then nothing.
We sat and waited for close to ten minutes. “If he was fashioning a weapon of some kind,” I suggested, “I think we would have heard something by now.”
Eventually we went downstairs and haven’t heard anything since. I just took a risk and slowly, carefully stuck my head in the door. He’s not standing on the windowsill or lying under the dresser or swinging from the light fixture. He’s asleep in his big boy bed.
Of course. Where else would he be?
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