Finally! It happened. My two-and-a-half-year-old (who is three-feet-tall, no exaggeration!) has grown out of her crib. I’ve delayed it long enough. Last week, though she was sleeping a little lower on her pillow than usual, her feet were actually, definitely touching the end of the crib.
She was never a “climber-outer,” so I waited as long as possible before (completely) baby-proofing her room and succumbing to the idea that my “baby” was, indeed, growing up.
As I mentioned in a previous post, the thought of switching to a “big-girl bed” brought me to tears in the middle of I89, as the thought of disassembling the crib slowly became a reality in my mind. So, I waited a few more weeks than planned. But, last weekend, I couldn’t wait any longer, and I didn’t know when I’d get another opportunity to change her room around.
We talked her through the transition while we worked on her room, finished organizing, washed bedding, and put her familiar, old, cozy blankie on her bed.
Nighttime came, and I expected the worst, but to both mine and my husband’s surprise (shock, awe, etc.), she was absolutely, 100% fine. She loved reading a story with me lying beside her. She was thrilled to snuggle with me, play with my hair, and even cooed at me, “Let’s talk about something, Mama.” Melt my heart.
And when I finally left her room, she called me in only one more time for a drink, then fell right to sleep.
I sat down on the couch and gave my husband, who was sitting in the recliner, that look — the, “Did that just happen, or am I just in a delirious state of holy-cowness right now?” He shrugged.
The next morning, I woke up at my daughter’s usual wake-up time, and the house was completely silent. Too silent. I jumped up and rushed to her room, expecting her to have torn the room apart with her new-found freedom. She was lying on her bed, and she smiled up at me as I came in her room, peeking over the top of a Clifford book. I forgot — at preschool, during rest time, they have to stay on their cots until an adult gets them, and they’re allowed to read a book while waiting.
Okay, so that training obviously came into play here, and she totally gets the rules of the toddler bed. Winning!
Still, I’m in awe of my little baby girl, who is just barely two-and-a-half. A simple transition to a toddler bed has meant more independence for her, and she likes that! I don’t need to hover in the mornings? Weird, but I can live with that. She wakes up and entertains herself until I get her? Ok! I slept in an extra half hour today!
She even got herself “breakfast” this morning.
When I woke up, she shyly confessed, “Mama? This morning, when I woke up, I ate a Goldfish cracker I found on the floor. Is that okay?”
Um… there are worse things, I suppose, but maybe I’ll put out some Cheerios for her tonight. And sweep the floor. Big-girl days are here!