|Timothy Moves Out
||[Aug. 2nd, 2008|10:00 pm]
Timothy is a big boy now, being over fourteen months old, and we decided that it was time for him to move out. Of our bedroom, at least.|
We began shuffling furniture after an early dinner. A corner cabinet and side table were coming out of Timothy's room in order to make room for the crib. The corner cabinet would move into our room to the spot where the crib was. It was one of those careful spot-swapping deals that seems easy in theory but always takes a bit of extra shuffling to pull off.
The crib that we have for him is a very nice european model, with natural tone wood and classic design. We'd had it wedged between our bed and the bedroom wall. We left one side off of the crib so that it was open to the bed. This allowed us to easily reach Timothy during the night when he was smaller; as he got larger, it also meant that he could easily reach us.
I made an interesting discovery while moving the crib. Or, at least, a deduction. It's my supposition that door frames, in whatever part of europe where this crib originated, are about an inch and a half wider than our American doorways. Because I cannot think of any other reason that you'd build a crib with heavy wood headboards and make them just slightly too large to get through a door, necessitating much swearing, hunting for allen wrenches, and disassembling of crib framing pieces while in the hallway and fending off a curious infant.
We eventually assembled and arranged everything in his room. He stood in his crib, looking around and chattering happily. We wondered if this was an act. I, at least, did not expect that I'd get any sleep tonight. What we were doing was clearly a change to The Routine.
But we went through the normal motions, with the undressing, bath time, reluctantly getting out of the bath, getting into pajamas, and brushing teeth. Then I carried him into his room, not our room, and set him in his crib. There was momentary confusion on his face as we were walking down the hall in what he clearly thought was the wrong direction. But then he saw his bed, blankie, and stuffed lion, so things were okay. I sat and read to him for about a half hour ("Watership Down", we're midway through) and he hardly fussed. I couldn't believe it!
So I'm back in my bed, without a baby in the room, and much earlier than I'd have guessed. He's been sound asleep for a while, too. Could this really work? Maybe he'll not mind his new room at all! Wait. Better knock on wood. Expensive oversized european wood.
P.S. "Pajamas", like "bananas", is in a special category of words that I call "iteronyms"(tm). These are words that it's easy to mistype or mispronounce because you get carried away with the syllables. "Pajamamas", as I originally typed it, for instance.
How lovely that you're reading him Watership Down. The music of it, as well as the wonderful stories, will stay with him all his life. And he's getting so big now!
Nic, reading your descriptions of family life is a joy to me. I know that both you and Kit are superlative parents.
I will never forget tearing the doorframe off the doorway that lead to my staircase. Only to find that I still could not get my new bed up the stairs. The heartbreak was quite overwhelming.
Wow, the both of you are just awesome parents.
I find it strange that such oversized country as we are we don't have bigger doors;)
Congratulations on making a smooth transition. It sounds like you've got quite the little gentleman developing. :)