Big Boy Bed Injures Local Mother

We had been thinking for a while about moving Trombone from crib to bed.

On the reluctant side, my brain argued:

– he’s fine in his crib!
– he doesn’t complain or climb out or anything! (I really thought he would, at some point, at least try to climb out, but no, his Stockholm Syndrome is alive and well.)
– but, but, but, if he’s in a bed, he will be able to get out of bed and wander around and walk into things and get drunk and surf the Internet and what if he never sleeps again!

However, the arguments FOR were also compelling:

– soon there will be another child. That child will want the crib at some point. (though likely not immediately; we are planning to sleep the Hippo in the bedside basket as we did with Trombone)
– Trombone grew out of the bedside basket at 3 months old
– The Books say to avoid associating Big Changes in Toddlerworld with the arrival of new siblings. They say, “don’t move the older sibling after the new baby arrives or the older sibling will beat on the new baby’s monkey skull for stealing its crib!” and I never had siblings so I am following the books on this one.

Time was pressing on and craigslist that bitch was yielding nothing over the weeks of my searching, so over the weekend, my mom, Trombone and I went to Ikea and bounced on beds for a while. A long while. What seemed like hours. I wanted to involve him in the process, you see, because I have heard that toddlers can be resistant to change. And also contrary. And stubborn. I don’t know where I heard it. I just did.

Trombone has been doing this thing for the last week or so. It’s meant to be a big excited gasp of joy but it kind of sounds like he just inhaled a bag of cocaine. It’s terrifying the first few times you hear it (where does he get all the money?) but you get used to it and then, when used in concert with his new favourite food descriptor, “Oh! Is soooooo goooooooood!” it becomes funny funny funny.

When he walked into his bedroom on Monday morning and saw the bed, assembled in the opposite corner of the room (Book: “Leave the crib in the room! Let the toddler choose! He could turn on you at any moment!”) he made his best inhaling-cocaine noise and trotted right over to jump on it, exclaiming, “NEW BED NEW BED NEW BED!” like a mad thing.

So: he likes. Who wouldn’t. It has red sheets and a duck quilt.

Super-intelligently, we chose that night, after a day of cake and chocolate, to let him sleep in the new bed. He jumped around for about half an hour, was sorely challenged to let us get his clothes off for the bath, went running back in as soon as he was out of the tub, “NEW BED NEW BED OOOOOOOOOOOH!” I retired downstairs and listened to the thumping, the bumping, the shrieks of joy, wondering if we would sleep at all. Ever. Any of us.

But it was fine.

We did it again last night, only to be rudely awakened at 2 am to a THUMP followed by fire-alarm-quality injured-pride screaming. Yes, wee sir had tumbled out of bed (we opted not to put up a guard rail, reasoning that he would probably just get caught on it and the floor is not that far) and unlike his uncle, SA’s brother, who, according to legend, once fell from the TOP BUNK and did not wake, our Trombone did not stay asleep on the floor. However, after a few minutes of hugs, he went right back to sleep, this time closer to the middle of the bed.

Sadly, I was kept awake until 4:45 am by the Hippo, random thoughts, hunger, thirst and leg cramps. Because that is how I roll.

Happily, I decided to call in sick, dropped an unharmed, happy Trombone at daycare, slept all morning and watched the movie about American Idol winner Fantasia Barrino all afternoon. I even misted up a little at the end.

I have no closing pith so here’s a choice line as uttered by Bret Michaels (he’s an eligible bachelor, you know! IGNORE that he looks like Axl Rose. IGNORE.) from his OMG-I-need-a-girlfriend reality show “Rock of Love.”

“She’s one of those girls, she could, like, change your tire, but you totally want to have sex with her. It’s a win-win.”

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