Friday, August 26, 2005
The First Time
Boo escaped today. He wasn't in danger, at least not in a cataclysmic way. But he resisted mightily after I put him down for his nap. After 20 minutes of protest, I heard his voice growing decidedly louder. He'd finally done it! He scaled the crib and emerged triumphant from the confines of his room. "Boo, how did you get out of your crib?" I asked. Max was quick to answer for him: "He took a lesson from me!"
Must I tell you that this does not bode well for the future of naps in our house? Every attempt to put Boo down will now be subjected to his personal litmus test: "At this very moment, do I feel like sleeping or not?" Boo defied a nap until about 4:30, when I found him limp in a comfy armchair. I transferred him to his crib, where his body succumbed to exhaustion. But not for long. Two hours later, he appeared on the patio, his muscle memory obviously having programmed "how to spring the crib" for all time. For the sake of his well-being, Boo's crib days are officially over.
This evening, I tucked Boo into his new twin bed, poised directly across from his brother's. Max was ecstatic about the development. "Mommy, now I won't have to go into your room any more because Boo's here with me and I'm not scared. Now we need a new baby to sleep in the crib." (Ha! Enough said.)
We then began what is sure to become an elaborate new bedtime ritual. I tucked Boo under his covers and snuggled stuffed animals around him, hoping to keep him from rolling out of bed in the middle of the night. Next it was Max's turn. Boo called me back to his side of the room. "Hug!" he demanded. "Kiss!" (How could you not comply with such a tender request?) Then we borrowed a page from the Waltons: "Good night, Max. Good night, mommy. Good night, Boo. Good night, horse. Good night, dog. Good night, Harley. Good night, bed." I turned down the light and slipped out the door. "Mommy, I'm not afraid of the dark any more," Max said to my back.
It wasn't long before I heard Boo's unmistakable footsteps skittering down the hall. "Boo, do you want to sleep in your crib or in your new bed?" "Bed." "Okay, then, you need to stay there."
The next time I checked on the boys, I found Max piling mounds of toys onto Boo's bed. "Do you know why I'm putting these toys here?" "Why, Max." "So that Boo doesn't have to get out of bed to play with them." "Well, that's an interesting idea, Max, but Boo isn't going to play with toys right now. It's bedtime. Now get in your bed. You need to set a good example for Boo." "I'm going to teach him!"
When I heard footsteps in the hall yet again, I intercepted Boo as he reached the den. He headed for the bookshelves and began collecting. "Boo, if you keep getting out of your bed, I'm going to put you back in your crib. Is that what you want?" "No," Boo replied, heading back down the hall. A few minutes later I went to survey the boys' bedroom. Boo was carefully arranging his collection of horses and dogs around him, right down to the copy of Brown Bear, Brown Bear, opened to the page bearing the blue horse. "What do you want?," Boo asked. (On the road to mastering pronouns, Boo has taken the detour on which "you" and "I" are transposed. And it's easy to see why, isn't it? I ask Boo "How are you?," and somehow he's supposed to glean that the appropriate response is "I am fine." I hear this most often when Boo looks up at me with outstretched arms and pleads, "Carry you!") So when Boo asked, "What do you want?," I surmise he was really asking, "What do I want?" And then he proceeded to supply the answer: "This horse and book and dog and blanket and dog and pillow." Out slipped an inventory of his bed's contents, now arranged to his satisfaction.
"Good night, sweet Boo, I love you so."
"Good night. Love you."
The first smile, the first hug, the first "love you"--now those are "firsts" for the ages.
Must I tell you that this does not bode well for the future of naps in our house? Every attempt to put Boo down will now be subjected to his personal litmus test: "At this very moment, do I feel like sleeping or not?" Boo defied a nap until about 4:30, when I found him limp in a comfy armchair. I transferred him to his crib, where his body succumbed to exhaustion. But not for long. Two hours later, he appeared on the patio, his muscle memory obviously having programmed "how to spring the crib" for all time. For the sake of his well-being, Boo's crib days are officially over.
This evening, I tucked Boo into his new twin bed, poised directly across from his brother's. Max was ecstatic about the development. "Mommy, now I won't have to go into your room any more because Boo's here with me and I'm not scared. Now we need a new baby to sleep in the crib." (Ha! Enough said.)
We then began what is sure to become an elaborate new bedtime ritual. I tucked Boo under his covers and snuggled stuffed animals around him, hoping to keep him from rolling out of bed in the middle of the night. Next it was Max's turn. Boo called me back to his side of the room. "Hug!" he demanded. "Kiss!" (How could you not comply with such a tender request?) Then we borrowed a page from the Waltons: "Good night, Max. Good night, mommy. Good night, Boo. Good night, horse. Good night, dog. Good night, Harley. Good night, bed." I turned down the light and slipped out the door. "Mommy, I'm not afraid of the dark any more," Max said to my back.
It wasn't long before I heard Boo's unmistakable footsteps skittering down the hall. "Boo, do you want to sleep in your crib or in your new bed?" "Bed." "Okay, then, you need to stay there."
The next time I checked on the boys, I found Max piling mounds of toys onto Boo's bed. "Do you know why I'm putting these toys here?" "Why, Max." "So that Boo doesn't have to get out of bed to play with them." "Well, that's an interesting idea, Max, but Boo isn't going to play with toys right now. It's bedtime. Now get in your bed. You need to set a good example for Boo." "I'm going to teach him!"
When I heard footsteps in the hall yet again, I intercepted Boo as he reached the den. He headed for the bookshelves and began collecting. "Boo, if you keep getting out of your bed, I'm going to put you back in your crib. Is that what you want?" "No," Boo replied, heading back down the hall. A few minutes later I went to survey the boys' bedroom. Boo was carefully arranging his collection of horses and dogs around him, right down to the copy of Brown Bear, Brown Bear, opened to the page bearing the blue horse. "What do you want?," Boo asked. (On the road to mastering pronouns, Boo has taken the detour on which "you" and "I" are transposed. And it's easy to see why, isn't it? I ask Boo "How are you?," and somehow he's supposed to glean that the appropriate response is "I am fine." I hear this most often when Boo looks up at me with outstretched arms and pleads, "Carry you!") So when Boo asked, "What do you want?," I surmise he was really asking, "What do I want?" And then he proceeded to supply the answer: "This horse and book and dog and blanket and dog and pillow." Out slipped an inventory of his bed's contents, now arranged to his satisfaction.
"Good night, sweet Boo, I love you so."
"Good night. Love you."
The first smile, the first hug, the first "love you"--now those are "firsts" for the ages.
1 Comments:
Wonderful writing, Melanie - tender and funny. Good luck with the new sleeping arrangements!
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