Last weekend we took the plunge and got Jacob a toddler bed. The reasons were threefold: first, we wanted to make the transition well before Henry is out and about in the world; second, Jacob kept trying to sit on top of my belly while I was rocking him before bed; and third, we found one for cheap.
Newsflash: Because we had to move the rocking chair out of Jacob’s (the boys’!) room to fit the bed, the climbing is no longer a problem. Instead, I end up on the floor, getting up and down twice, and eventually lifting Jacob and all his accoutrement into the crib every time I’ve put him to sleep. So far, this is not easier.
Anyway, I tried to carefully hype Jacob up about it by reminding him of his friend’s fabulous toddler bed. When we went to visit my childhood friend this summer, Jacob and her son, let’s call him Evan, played with trains together in Evan’s room, mainly on his bed (not on the train table right next to his bed). We talked to Jacob a little bit then about how cool a big boy bed was. At the time I didn’t realize we’d neglected to mention a very important thing: big boy beds are for sleeping, not for playing trains.
Cut to last Sunday, when John went to pick up our toddler bed. Jacob and I were waiting outside for him. When John arrived, I opened the doors to our apartment—there are three—and told Jacob to go inside, so he wouldn’t get smacked with the bed or mattress. He did go inside. For a minute.
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Next thing I know he’s outside again, grinning up at me with an armful of trains.
We got the bed inside, put it in his room, cleaned it, and put sheets on it. Then, we did this:
The good news is that Jacob likes to at least have a pillow on the bed while he plays trains. It’s a step in the right direction. Really, from day one, he’s done his whole bedtime routine in the bed, with the exception of falling asleep. Hopefully that part follows soon.
In the meantime, chug-a-chug-a-zzzzz-zzzzzzzzz . . .
