The Big Boy Bed

Tater Tot’s room now has a twin bed in it.  Correct me if I’m wrong, but I’m pretty sure that twin beds were made for one person.  The 2 1/2-year-old who is currently trying to run our household spent the better part of Saturday night trying to convince me otherwise.

We spent the weekend getting his room ready for THE BIG MOVE in which he would start sleeping in his own room again.  Sweet, wonderful joy!  I even started to think of moving back into the master bedroom, but not until I’d spent a couple of months few nights enjoying having a king-size bed all to myself.  I imagined just rolling around in all that unoccupied space.  No feet in my back.  No little elbows up my nose.  No sitting up in the middle of the night to rearrange a horizontally sleeping child to a vertical position.  I could almost taste it.

The mattress and box springs were delivered Saturday afternoon by two very nice young men who were very, very polite.  I think it had something to do with the fact that they had to walk through the den where my husbands first love (aside from our son), his GINORMOUS flat-screened TV  just happened to be tuned to the Memphis/Maryland game.  (If you think I’m kidding about my husband’s love for that TV, let me just tell you that he bought it for himself last Mother’s Day. No lie.  TVs are his love language.)

We put the new sheets on the bed, along with the new quilt and sham with fire trucks.  Tater Tot loves his new bed.  We stayed in his room all afternoon and read books and worked puzzles and played with his toys.  He even hugged his bed and told it that he wuvved it.  I thought to myself, I’ve got this one in the bag.

When it was time for bed, I said, “Hey, Tater Tot, let’s go read some books and go night-night!” and he enthusiastically said, “OH, OKAY!  Let’s go!”  With that, he ran to his room, grabbed his teddy bear and a book and high-tailed it toward “my” bed.

The agony of defeat is such a blow.

“Wait, little man.  We’re going to your room.  We’re going to read in your new BIG BOY BED!”

“Oh, my bed!  Wite!”

We read for about 45 minutes.  I tucked him in and sat in the same chair I used to rock him to sleep in when he was a baby.

There were no tears.  He didn’t throw a fit.  It took a little while for him to fall asleep, but I anticipated that part.  After about 30 minutes, he was out like a light.  I tiptoed out of the room and closed the door.

I did a little victory dance.  A premature victory dance, that is.

Three hours later, there were tears and he was pleading to sleep in Mama’s bed. I was strong and said that he was a big boy and it was time for him to sleep in his room in his new bed.  Then he said, “Mama, you get in my bed.”  I explained that I was going to sleep in my bed and that he was going to be just fine in his bed.  He sniffed a couple of times, but he was a brave little Tot and went back to sleep in his bed.

I left his room.  This time there was no dancing.

Another three hours went by and he called for me again.  After another conversation about where we were and were not going to sleep, he went back to sleep, or so I thought.  I was in bed for about a minute before I was back in his room.  Bless it.  “You haff to stay wiff me, Mama.  Pweeze.”  And then two big tears rolled down his cheeks.  I will not lie to you.  It took everything I had not to pick that child up and declare that he can sleep in my room until leopards lose their spots if it makes him feel better.  However, I know that’s not the best thing for any of us, so I wiped his tears, kissed his cheeks, and stayed until his was good and asleep.

The last time he woke up was actually Tater Daddy’s fault.  He got up early to let the dogs out and let a door slam.  This time it only took a couple of minutes of rubbing Tater Tot’s back to get him back to sleep, and he slept like a rock for the next two hours.

We’ll see how things go for the next few nights.

With a nod to Barbara Mandrell and an apology for changing the words a little, here’s hoping that he’ll be sleeping single in his twin-size bed before long.

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8 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. D
    Mar 23, 2009 @ 13:51:36

    Bless him. You’re a mean mother.

    Just kidding. You’re doing the right thing…even if it’s painful.

    Reply

  2. JLI
    Mar 23, 2009 @ 16:25:13

    Yay! Sounds like you remained VERY strong for his first night! I’m not sure who I’m more proud of – you or Tater Tot! Well done!! 🙂

    Reply

  3. Lora Lynn
    Mar 23, 2009 @ 20:15:07

    Sympathies. Stay strong.

    Reply

  4. Jennifer
    Mar 23, 2009 @ 23:23:19

    I remember when my twins went to twin beds! I cried all afternoon. It’s a huge milestone, and one that he will grow used to! You’re such an amazing Mommy!!! Congrats on the facebook status you posted earlier, too!!! I’m very happy for your growing family!

    Reply

  5. Kim H.
    Mar 24, 2009 @ 08:24:47

    Aww – sweet little guy… I’m glad you stayed strong! It can’t be easy, but it is for the best… and he’ll get used to it soon enough. 🙂 Hang in there Mama! Pweeze!

    Reply

  6. Calista
    Mar 24, 2009 @ 09:23:01

    I think you will be so happy in a few weeks that you stood strong!! I, on the otherhand, am a spineless jellyfish with TWO in my bed.
    It has to be so hard , sympathy is headed your way!!

    Reply

  7. Melissa
    Mar 28, 2009 @ 11:25:39

    I just LOL when I read “TVs are his love language.” So funny…. and SO like my husband.

    Reply

  8. Trackback: Practicing Self Control. Or Not. « Tater Tales

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