I admit it. I have a linen fetish. But I am not just using this situation as an excuse to buy sheets for Q’s bed. This is strategy! Honest!
Last spring, before N was born, a friend came across the book My Big Boy Bed by Eve Bunting. It features a little boy who is very similar to our Q: has a cat, has an affection for fire trucks, has a blankie, and, very important, has a new baby brother. We read it ‘sister’, because, heck, Q can’t read, and we might as well push the analogy in his head as far as we can. The big brother in the book has just come home from buying ‘big boy sheets’ for his big boy bed. He discusses all the merits of the big boy bed, and at the end also describes slipping out of bed to gently touch the hand of the new baby and saying good night.
Well, you know what’s coming right? We have one crib, and one Q sleeping in it. He tried out the toddler bed for a few weeks, and then went back. N is still sleeping in the bassinet, but it is getting a little small for her. And it’s a little too close to me. As I found with Q, the smallest sound seems to wake me, and then I respond without giving her the opportunity to fall back to sleep on her own. Not that I suspect she would. After all, when your every whimper is catered to, why would you develop any stoicism?
Today we went to the mall. The mall in question is about an hour from home. We brought Q, N, the friend referred to above, and her wee baby. There was much time spent in the bathroom (actually, this is a big milestone, he’d never asked to use the bathroom before in a public place) and on the escalators. I was exhausted. But we returned with ‘big boy sheets’ for the two big boy beds. Q bought into the concept so entirely that he was playing escalator with the cat who is going up the escalator to get big boy sheets herself. I later discovered her trapped between the screen door and the wooden door. Evidently she decided to use the elevator.
We made the beds up. I am now fighting the desire to locate a twin sized red bed skirt (wouldn’t that look good with the fire trucks?) and Q chose to sleep in the GINORMOUSLY high bed, made with fire truck sheets that he selected himself. (I asked him which bed he wanted to sleep in and he replied, “Well, the one with Blankie.”)
I have been in and out of his room no less than 4 times with various excuses. He seems sound asleep, wedged against the wall, with little chance of falling out soon. I moved the toddler bed (now sporting a train sheet) next to it so there’d be something soft to break his fall…
and of course, now that I have so thoroughly persuaded him that he’s a big boy, I am filled with regret for how fast my little boy is growing.