We removed your baby bed. You know, the custom ordered, youngAmerica, solid wood crib that you slept in only a handful of nights? Yeah, that's the one. It's been broken down and sent to it's new resting place. Leaning against an interior wall of our spare bedroom. I got a little teary eyed, watching Daddy wield his trusty screwdriver and mutter a few potty words as he took down the last remaining structure of your "baby room".
You're a big boy now. 3 1/2 years old and so full of life. You're so bossy and determined. You have your own way of doing things; and that way is the best way; the only way. You're also adamant about your feelings toward your new bed. It's NOT for sleeping in. You've taken 3 naps in it so far...only because you fell asleep and I carried you in and laid you down. You cry incessantly when we put you to bed in it at night. Even though you are armed with 3 flashlights, a barrage of stuffed animals and your closet light is burning bright, you're afraid we're going to leave you.
So, back into our bed you go. And your little size 10's are in my face. Because your momma can't stand the thought of you feeling left alone. I keep telling myself that you won't be 14 years old and sleeping in our bed, so right now is fine. It's not going to last forever. It still pulls at my heartstrings when I watch you sleep. You're perfect little face and chubby little toes still have a smidgen of "baby" left in them. And, I want to hold on to that. It's not going to last forever.
