Mary Tsao and I must have had the same vision over the weekend. We both went to Ikea and purchased bunk beds for our kids. The hubs and I spent an hour disassembling Five's junior loft bed and then another hour assembling the new slumber quarters for the boys.
We decided to take a rest on the construction/deconstruction of furniture when it came to Q's toddler bed. It was late and we had no place in our garage to put the pieces since it was littered with cardboard and the loft bed.
The boys ate their dinner quickly as they chatted over the table about their bunk beds. After baths, they hurried into their room and played -- Five on the top bunk and Q. in the bottom bed, which he pretends is a train.
Books were read, teeth were brushed, and the boys were ushered back into their room. Q. scurried out and climbed onto our bed. His face had a sheepish smile with a twinge of anxiety. I brought him back into his room and he squealed, "No, Mommy. I don't want to go to sleep."
Q. isn't ready to say adios to his toddler bed.
I grabbed his blankets and pillow and put them back on his old bed. He eagerly crawled in and asked for a hug and a kiss while his big brother teased him for not wanting to sleep in a "big boy bed."
"I AM in a big boy bed," he replied with pride.
I snuggled in with Q. for a few minutes, secretly grateful that he still wants to be on his crib-sized mattress in his miniature bed. When Q. is in the bunk bed, he looks like a single word on a large blank page. The size overwhelms him, overwhelms me.
Turns out that I, too, am not ready for Q. to say goodbye to his toddler bed.
I'm holding onto Two for as long as I can.
