My totally independent, "I can do it myself", three year old has completely regressed. Suddenly, he can't do anything. He needs to be held, sit on my ever shrinking lap, and...climb into bed with me every night.
At first I thought this was cute. Then after a month of almost nightly invasions, I decided I had had enough. Of course, in my pregnant, not sleeping much, totally uncomfortable shape, my first solution was to send him to the other side of the bed to sleep with Daddy. That worked okay until Nelson began to send him right back to me.
Last week I decided it was time for some serious action. In about 8 weeks I'll have a newborn in my room and, hopefully, be in the new house, a flight of stairs away from the other kids. This was a habit that could become dangerous in more ways than one (think waking a sleeping infant and mother).
For the past few nights, when Dawson’s little hand taps me on the shoulder, I simply tell him to get back into his own bed. After several teary requests matched with stern refusals he resorts to asking me to tuck him in which I also refuse figuring that this would only delay the learning process.
Last night he actually spent the entire night in his own bed. He awoke to the praises of a very grateful Mommy and Daddy. Tonight, as I tucked him in and gave him a blessing, I reminded him of how proud I was of him.
"Are you going to do that again tonight?" I anxiously asked. He shook his head. "You did it last night, why can't you do it again tonight?"
"Last night there were no monsters in my room," he quickly explained.
"Dawson, that's because there's no such thing as monsters. There have never been any monsters in your room and there never will be," I confidently assured him.
He looked a bit relieved and then asked, "Are there any snakes?"