24 September 2013

The end is near.

It's been a month since we've checked in. We've already had a whirlwind start to fall, with apple-picking, pumpkin-looking and trying to decide what to be for Halloween. You're rapidly approaching 3 1/2 and wow, the changes are happening.  You're out of diapers and I think I've got my last two left on your changing table to wear for a couple more nights. You're growing up.

And as symbolic as it is for the diaps to be done (thank GOD!), I'm not having a hard time with it.  I think because as frustrating as potty training has been (and boy, has it EVER...and still has its moments), you're doing pretty well and I'm confident we're getting closer and closer to the end result...many stickers, chocolate chips, and reward charts later.  

What has me feeling a little pinch in my heart is that right up through this very moment, you have been in your crib.  I know, I know...you're three! I know people who's kids have been in 'big kid beds' since 18 months. But with you we saw no need.  You never climbed out, you still fit comfortably, and it was and has been your cozy sweet nest.  

But last week, you started to do it.  You climbed out.  You stood at your door and knocked.  That was our cue to come up and bring you down.  Thankfully, you know not to come down the stairs by yourself.  But you continue to climb out.  You've done it every day this week.  Sometimes you do it after we put you to bed.  We hear the 'thump' of feet hitting the floor, and then inevitably, the knock on the door.  On Sunday morning, you shouted from the top of the stairs "Giggle, giggle!" I guess that translated to "haha, I'm up, I'm out, now come get me."

This morning, you stood giggling and clapping.  Anything to get our attention.  And so it was decided.  It's time.   Time to make that transition.  You're done with your crib.  I don't want you climbing out in the middle of the night, in your pitch black room, save for the stars and planets illuminating your walls, and hurting yourself.  

And so your crib, which for nearly 3 1/2 years has been the one and only place you've dreamed, sang, and snuggled yourself to sleep will now turn into your toddler bed.  Sure, it will still be the same structure, but it will not have the front bars on it; I will not be lifting you to put you in it every night, nor picking you up from it every morning.  You'll be able to do that all by yourself.  To me, it's the last tentacle of babyhood that we've been grasping, ever so tenuously, while knowing that the end has been near.

So this weekend, when we make this transition for you and with you, I'll no doubt look wistfully at what once was and find a way to let go of that last piece of your baby self. I know it's time, but that doesn't mean I have to like it. As you tell me nearly every day, you're a big boy now. Yes, you are.

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