The Big Boy Bed

There comes a time in every oldest child's life where he/she must give up the crib so that another sibling can inhabit it.  The time had come.  We didn't feel it fair to wait until Addie is born to move him over...we felt it may be slightly traumatizing given that so much of his old stuff (not to mention much of mommy's attention) would soon be directed toward Baby Sister instead of "Dat-son" ("Daxson"). 

Enter "Big Boy Bed". 

It had been sitting in his room now for a few months, but aside from him "Shum-peen!  Shum-peen!  Shum-peen!"  ("Jumping!  Jumping!  Jumping!") on it occasionally, it was pretty much ignored by the little man. 

The first night, we thought we had it in the bag. 

1. All toys, with the exception of L.B. (Little Buzz...not to be confused with "Liberty Bell" of Juno fame) were taken from the room.  
2. Dax still hasn't figured out how to open the door.  
3. We had installed a bed rail to prevent him from falling.  
4. We had given him a small step stool to re-enter the bed should he exit the bed and wander around. 

What more could we have done?

Turns out our manipulative little turd decided that he would scream and scream and scream until we would finally (after over an hour....SO abnormal for him) re-enter the room.  He would immediately stop crying and say, "Mommy" while patting the mattress next to him. 

So, Robbie and I would alternatively lay next to him on the bed rubbing his head, stroking his face, scratching his back....whatever we thought might lull him to sleep.

Eventually, Robbie headed to bed (4:30 am approaches quickly), and I stayed a bit longer, thinking he was "just about asleep". 

After two and a half hours, I started to scratch his back again.  This time, instead of snuggling closer, he erupted with giggles.  "Kick-ohs!  Kick-ohs!" ("Tickles!  Tickles!").

As stinkin' cute as it was (even at the time), I said to him, "Daxson, do you want to sleep in your crib one last night?"

"Peas?"

I promptly tucked him in to bed in the crib and left the room, heading to bed myself.  I never heard another sound that night.

The next morning, this was his face:

Luckily, since then, we've only had to redirect him to bed two or three times since (he kicked over the step stool and couldn't climb up, and his nightlight--on a timer--had shut off). 

A few weeks into it, and he's a little champ.  I think he even likes it better!