He didn't try to get out when we told him it was bed time. He crawled up into bed, covered himself with his blanket and said goodnight to me. I haven't heard a peep since then. What a wonderful little boy.
It's past midnight now. Why am I still awake? I don't know. Something stupid inside of me is keeping me up, making me remember when he was
I worried today that after making this switch that he would fight it and be up all night, wandering into our room at all hours... but so far, he hasn't. He was excited for change. He embraced it and now he's doing just fine, like so many other obstacles he's encountered.
This is just one more thing I've worried over for nothing. I need to give him more credit and accept that he is his own brave person now.
I've gone in twice to check on him, and he's still just as I left him - tucked in a far corner of his bed, holding on to a plastic dump truck with a sippy cup of water under his arm.
I very rarely go in to check on him anymore, but every time I do it reminds me of how I used to walk into his room when he was a newborn. I used to be able to walk in and trip over dirty laundry and make a huge racket, but he'd remain fast asleep.
Now if I try to sneak into his room and I make even the slightest noise he lifts his head up and says, "Mama? Hi."
I know it's so cliche to say that kids grow up fast, and I'm not even really saying that I miss those newborn days because I so enjoy the way he is now but... seriously. Something so trivial as changing his bed can make me remember so much.