On Monday night, Brandon slept in his big boy bed. Neither Steve nor I was ready for it. Truthfully, Brandon has asked to sleep in his big boy bed a few times (OK, more than a few). But I always disregard his request and stick him in the crib. He is two and a half, true, but he doesn’t attempt to climb out and the cage is a nice comfort to myself and Steve. He can’t electrocute himself in there, pull a bookshelf on top of himself, or roll out of it, for example. Steve has always been a worrier, and I have come to join him ever since the children arrived.
After I laid him in bed, I surrounded him on all sides with pillows, then piled up his stuffed animals too for good measure. I told Steve Brandon was in his big boy bed and he just replied, “no.”
“Yes, he is,” I answered.
“Why?” he asked.
“Because he asked to go in there and at some point I have to let him grow up.”
Steve was immediately up there, rearranging pillows, piling up even more stuffed animals.
Not long after, Brandon fell asleep. So of course, I snuck in there, made sure he was breathing, covered in blankets, and free from harm. Not long after, I saw Brandon’s door was open and Steve was in there. “What happened?” I asked, afraid that Brandon had woken up from some night terror involving big boy beds.
“Nothing,” Steve replied, “just checking on him.”
“He’s fine,” I admonished, not admitting I had just been doing the same thing.
Today, we went to the store and Brandon picked out big boy underwear. We really are waving goodbye to all the comforts of babyhood – the crib, the diapers, the pacifier. And then today I scrolled through a few 2012 blogs to see just when it was that we transferred Brandon out of his infant carrier and into his first car seat, because Holden is at about that age. When I sent Steve the old blog post, he said it made him emotional, how they grow up so fast. And although I was trying to be the stoic one, we all know that I’m really not that way at all. I kiss Brandon’s cheek every chance I get because I know one day soon he will outgrow mama’s kisses. It gets me too – not the growing up, per se, but the outgrowing.