As the new edition is quickly rounding me out, we have had to begin the transition process for sweet Sprinkles. This is not the kind of transition you look forward to, like potty training, where the end goal allows you to shed some sort of baby shackle and function more like an adult instead of a personal servant. No. This is the most dreaded transition of all... from crib to bed. She will no longer be confined and will be able to run amok at all hours, should she so choose. Or fall down the stairs. Or play in the toilet. Or terrorize her brother. Yes, all of these things and so much more. Her opportunities will be endless. *sigh* But all good things must come to an end, right? Or as my Great-Great-Grandmother used to tell my Grandma "Whistling Girls and Crowing Hens always come to some bad end."... or something. Whatever, it was Victorian and they were odd.
The conversion from crib to bed happened and the creature was freed... and she took a nap. Wait.... Wha? That's right, folks. My 20 month old laid down and took a nap. And she didn't get up. Not even once. Okay... okay. I know what you are thinking and there were no drugs or duct tape involved, I swear. I thought it was a fluke and was convinced bedtime was going to turn into the Super Ball Battle of in-out-in-out that Sass Monkey became famous for. It only happens rarely.... but I CAN be wrong.
As I knelt next to her
I was stunned as I closed her door quietly and walked down the stairs. My baby didn't need me. :( My baby didn't need me. :) She had broken my heart and put it back together again with one pudgy, drool covered nudge. At that moment she was the most powerful force in my world... but all she knew was it was past her bedtime and Mommy was being weird and wouldn't shut up. Silly Mommy... now leave. I'm tired.
Well... okay, then.
My baby isn't a baby, ya'll.... *gulp*