We are two nights into the Big Boy Room Experiment.
See that little guy, totally zonked out in his big boy bed…. so proud. Once he learned that his binkie could travel with him to the big boy room, he was all in. Couldn’t wait to try it out. And while the binkie may have been the needed shove into the bed, his new, beloved Twilight Turtle has been the answer to staying in bed contentedly. He adores choosing the color of the stars and moon each night. He lays happily staring at his ceiling and showing each of his “friends” the stars. It’s a gift from the Zen gods.
Interestingly, along with the big boy bed has come a big boy attitude. Both mornings, he’s woken up asking to immediately go to the potty. But my favorite, was overhearing his little voice shouting from the big bed this morning, “TIM!!! Where’s my milk!?” Apparently, they are now on a first name basis. Ya know, cause he’s a big boy.
We are amidst transition in our house these days — at least Lucas is.
He’s in the process of changing daycare rooms to a preschool prep room called “Get Set.” This will be the first time he heads upstairs with the big kids, leaving the babies and toddlers on the first floor. Of all the room transitions he’s made, thus far, this one has been the easiest. He’s eager to be upstairs, and wishes he could spend all his time up there already. He loves being around bigger kids and is excited for the bigger kid playground and the in-room potty. Right now, he spends 2-3 days up there each week and the others back in the safety of the Older Toddler room.
I picked him up on Friday upstairs from the Get Set room. He was thrilled to show off all the new toys and give me a tour of the second floor. Even sweeter though, once we headed downstairs, we couldn’t leave as he was insisting he needed to “say goodbye to toddlers.” We had to pop into the other daycare room and wish everyone a happy weekend before we could safely head home.
Similarly, we are dangling on the precipice of the “Big Boy Room” here at home. The furniture is in; pictures are hung; bedding arranged. We are still waiting on curtains and a few last bits and bobs to finalize the space. For now, he’s content to visit it. Half his books are currently residing in there and he loves sitting on the big bed to read them. But, if you ask him when he’ll be spending the night in there, he tells you “maybe tomorrow, I need to sleep in my cribby.”
We are working with a June 1 transition date and praying this begets some longer sleep stretches. As I type tonight, he’s shouting from his beloved cribby “I need mommy!” He knows change is upon him and is reverting to a more infantile sleep pattern — early to rise, often to wake. But, instead of the infant wailing, now we get the random requests: 1) I need milk; 2) Time to go downstairs (often at 2am); 3) Turn the fan on (or off); and most recently and frustratingly, 4) I need to go on the potty.
Of course, these are micro-transitions compared to what will hit in July!
The helmet is currently a mandatory accessory in Luke’s eyes. He’d like to wear it at all times — inside and out, to the store, etc… We fight every morning about wearing the helmet to school. After desperate pleas of “please Mommy!” he tends to concede the point. Helmet usually receives one or two hugs and is told that he’ll see him after school. Interestingly, the process of saying goodbye to helmet is much longer and seemingly more heartfelt than the process of wishing me good day when I depart daycare.
As I was heading down the stairs on Mother’s Day morning, I noticed Tim prodding Luke to say something. Clearly, he had been instructed to give me a hug and wish me “Happy Mother’s Day.” Instead, he looked rather confused and loudly pronounced “I give you a Mother’s Day!” I was glad to receive it.
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We are still battling a bit of the “mine” drama. Everything belongs to him all the time — even things that can’t be owned. For example, if I tell him that the girl down the street is a nice girl, and he’s in a mine mood. He’ll respond “MY nice girl!” Last weekend, he was fussing at the table and making his displeasure with me quite clear. Tim reprimanded him that it wasn’t Mommy’s fault he was so cranky. He responded indignantly, “NO, not Mommy’s fault. It’s MY fault!” Too true that time around…
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He has an incredibly selective memory. He can’t seem to recall that the number 4 comes after 3 and insists that the numbers go 1, 2, 3, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11. But, if you mention anything about my office, he’ll immediately tell you that there was a spider on a box in my office — something that happened three months ago and hasn’t been discussed in our house since. Similarly, he sometimes go weeks or even a month or more between baths at Gigi’s house, but without fail, he’ll know if she changes out a single bath toy. He knows each and every toy that is meant to be bathed with there, despite only seeing them once in a while.
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Several mispronunciations happening that are almost too cute to be corrected:
1) “Mommy, look! There’s our parking seat.” — always a parking seat and not a parking spot.2) “I want an ola bar” — instead of granola bar. And, he almost definitely means cereal bar instead of an ola bar anyway.
3) “Get my off coff” — also known as a wash cloth.
4) Deer are always described as reindeer. Stink bugs are better known as “stinky spiders.” And, M&Ms are “ani-melts” — that one took quite a long time to figure out with certainty.
There are two lots left in our neighborhood for building, and one recently sold. With this, in the past few weeks, a gift has descended upon our house in the form of heavy machinery. There are bulldozers, tractors, diggers and other assorted construction equipment scattered across the lot across the street, now visible from multiple windows at our house. Luke is in love.
He spends a significant amount of time gazing out the window at these new friends – usually while shouting orders at them. “Bulldozer, you dig!” His inside friends (panda pictured above) also enjoy watching the big trucks performing their daily duties.
This morning was no exception to the rule. Even more thrilling than the mere trucks, the work crew had arrived and was walking the site. Luke ordered them about from the safety of the master bedroom window and watched with rapture as they got in and out of the bulldozer. About twenty minutes into his truck gazing, he shouted “Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!” And when I asked what the red alert was for, he responded “Dat Man out dere is wearing pants!” Thank heavens for that, huh?
Luke has recently expressed more interest in higher degree of difficulty puzzles — ones with pieces that actually fit together and don’t just pop into an open slot on a wooden board. The vast majority of his interest is in watching Tim/I complete the puzzle and then shouting “I did it!!!” So modest…