Every morning when I hear my children chatting and singing to each other over the baby monitor, I go into their room, pick up Samantha, and put her in the crib with her brother. We chat and play for a while, then we get up and start our day.
Backstory part 1: When Samantha was a baby, this very same crib was her favorite place in all the world. She would have stayed in there for hours on end if I had let her. She played and talked and looked a little disappointed when we would take her out. I knew, even then, that she had an unusual attachment to her crib. About six months before her brother was born, I took down her crib and put up a toddler bed for her. Yes, she could crawl out of it, but she almost never did. It wasn't a safety issue. I knew she was going to be really upset seeing a new baby in her bed. I was hoping that would be enough time for her to develop a new attachment and forget about this one. Obviously, I was mistaken. Her favorite morning activity is still getting in the crib with her brother and playing with stuffed animals and books.
This morning started out like all the others; play in the crib, drink some chocolate milk, watch some Sprout. At some point, Samantha and I were playing around and I jokingly stuck her in the crib. She said, "Mommy, I'm your little baby!" to which I replied, "Oh really? Are you going to sleep in the baby crib tonight?" This excited her a great deal. I joked around with her about it a few times today, knowing that by the time we got home from my mother's house she would be so exhausted she would just pass out in her own bed without even thinking about it. Sometimes my naivite amazes even myself.
We arrived at our house almost an hour past their usual bed time. Caius was asleep and Sam was only barely awake. As I was holding her sleeping brother in my arms, she walked into the house, went straight to their room, climbed into his crib, and pulled his blanket up to her chin. She looked at me with the sweetest little face and said, "Caius can sleep in here with me if he wants to."
Backstory part 2: Nobody--NOBODY can sleep with my daughter. Its like sleeping with an over-sized weenie dog with exceptionally long and powerful legs. When you leave the experience, you will be sleep deprived, freezing, and likely have several bruises.
So I smiled at her and said just that: "No one can sleep with you, dear." She wasn't sure what I meant, but it was good enough for her and she fell asleep. Now I have a sleeping baby in my arms and a toddler in my crib. I decide since Sam wasn't much older than Caius when she got her "big girl bed" we'll give it a try. I lay him down. He opens his eyes and gives me a "what the...?!?!" look. I caress his hair and sing to him a bit until he falls asleep.
My husband is in Arkansas for a training right now, so I quietly shut the door and went into the next room to call him. I was intently listening for him to fall out of the bed or wake up at all. I didn't want him to be frightened by the experience at all. After about an hour, I decided to go in and check on them.
The door wouldn't open. Immediately, I knew what was blocking it. I tried as gently as I could to wedge it open enough to squeeze my arm through. I rolled him over a few times. He slept right through it. He was all cuddled up next to the door with his blanket (Wubby) and his pacifier (nee-nee). I walked over to the crib and picked up Sam as smoothly as I could (she is a very light sleeper). I tucked her into her bed. I scooped my infant child off the floor and laid him in his crib with his favorite blanket, his favorite stuffed toy, and his favorite book on his favorite pillow. It really is the most wonderful place in all the world.
