big boy bed

After a successful first two weeks sleeping in his big boy bed without a single incident of getting out of bed on his own, I find myself patting myself on the back, holding my head up high and telling everyone and anyone who will listen about my big boy bed strategy.  The message?  I actually DO know a thing or two about this parenting thing.

Let me back up a bit.  Ryan first climbed out of his crib last summer when I was out of town.  Tony told me the story as I sat in our corporate apartment in High Point, North Carolina with a horrified look on my face.  I know you've heard the story before about the baby climbing out of his crib and falling, but this was MY baby.  I spent the next several hours scouring the world wide web for a solution but one was not to be found besides putting him in a bed.

My ingenious husband who is 1/2 part McGyver and 1/2 part duct tape went to Home Depot and came up with his latest invention which he is now trying to patent.  It kept Ryan in his crib for several more months buying us much valuable sleep time.  But in the past few weeks I could see the writing on the wall and knew it was time to move Ryan to a big boy bed.

We made a big deal about it:  Ryan, are you excited to sleep in your big boy bed?  Ryan, you get your very own big boy bed!  And then we shopped for cute animal sheets a la Target that he loves and got him a pillow!  He loves pillows!

We fixed up that bed (a $20 find from the neighbors garage sale last summer) and he loved it!  And then I brokered the deal.  Do you want to sleep in your big boy bed (said with a happy, upbeat inflection) or your crib?  "Big Boy Bed!"  "Big Boy Bed!"

OK, you can sleep in your big boy bed as long as you don't get out.  If you get out, you have to sleep in your crib.  The threat worked.  He didn't even get out in the morning and two weeks later, he still doesn't.

I love putting him to bed at night.  Laying down next to him, telling him a story, singing a song and saying our prayers.  When I try to leave, he thinks of a million excuses (I have to go potty, I'm thirsty, there's an elephant! - they don't always make sense, but hey, he's 2).  Then when I leave, he says "I want to hold your hand" and grabs desperately at my hand as if his life depended on it.

I am so proud.  Yes, I'm proud of Ryan obeying us, but if the truth be told, I'm proud of me!  I'm a parent and I outsmarted my 2 year old boy and got him to stay in his bed.

Yes, I'm knocking on wood.