Timothy made the leap from crib to big boy bed this weekend. It’s a little later than usual to have him start sleeping in a bed, but our math went something like this – wait until he was climbing out of his crib, and then give it another year. And here we are.
It’s hard to describe exactly what Timothy now sleeping in a bed will be like, but maybe picture the chaos that would ensue if a lion that had been in a cage at the Bronx Zoo for four years was suddenly allowed to roam free in Manhattan. Actually make that two lions. Let’s just say that the five day forecast calls for a lot of interrupted sleep for the adults of this house.
I talked with a friend after church last week, and we were joking about the challenges of getting Timothy to sit still for the hour long mass at the Basilica. She was very complimentary of his behavior and said that she never heard a peep during the service. I thanked her, but then politely informed her that T was almost never in church during that mass – that he spent 90% of the service running around the church basement and hallways with me – hence the reason that it seemed so quiet on the western front.
Speaking of quiet, recently it’s been even less quiet around the house, as Timothy has gotten into the habit of closing doors, sometimes loudly. If he’s in his room and he wants to be alone, he’ll close the door. It was all fun and games until he closed his closet door, and its 60 year old door handle stopped working. No problem, except that the door handle was very hard to remove and that closet happens to contain all of his clothes. Needless to say, it’ll take a few years for Timothy’s allowance to cover the $85 locksmith bill.
(note: with below zero temperatures, the emergency locksmith asked if we were locked out of our house or this would be consider a ‘non-emergency’ situation, to which I should have told him that if Timothy realized that his threads were locked up, we’d have a four alarm fashion emergency on our hands).
In other tales of destruction, Timothy broke his first window. It’s impressive that we’ve lasted 4 years without breaking some glass. T was not hurt and it was no big deal until I popped my tire by backing the car over the broken glass and then slid on the ice into another car while driving to get the tire fixed. We’ll just add the cost of the window/tire/car incident to his locksmith tab. This kid’s going to be in college before he sees any allowance money.
We’ve talked about the fact that Timothy is still working on talking, but rest assured that wee TRBL has no problem getting his point across, as you can see in these pictures (sprawled out at the Apple Store, requesting that I ‘talk to the hand’, etc).
When he was playing with his animals and noticed that I was taking pictures, he immediately pointed for me to sit down in the chair and then went back to his animals.
One night, while Timothy was lying between Laura and me in our bed, Laura whispered that I should move Timothy into his crib, to which T popped off the pillow like a Jack in the box and yelled, ‘No Dada no.’
Breaking doors, smashing windows, talking back to his parents. It just seems like the boy is ready for the freedom of a big boy bed.
God, please protect the rest of us.
Nervous, but still Grateful,