Ikea Jones and the Big Boy Bed of Doom
December 17, 2007
Dun dun duuuuuun!
God, but we're nuts.
Noah has been rather ornery about his crib lately -- preferring to sleep all spread-eagle on our bed, to the point of requesting "big bed nite-nite." (Hey kids! Nobody tells you this, but I will: Go and get yourself all officially speech-delayed and I promise you, your parents will JUMP to obey every request you deign to put into words. Fish, barrel, kabloom.) He didn't really care if we were there with him or not, so we wondered if maybe -- just maybe -- our 95th-percentile-for-height boy was feeling a mite cramped in his crib.
So Jason posed the question this weekend: "Noah, would you like your OWN big bed? In your OWN room?"
Noah thought about it for a second: "Yep!"
I was less convinced (last week I asked him if he wanted a knuckle sandwich and he replied, "YEP! WIT JAM!"), but then I remembered that holiday ornaments are currently 75% off at IKEA, and also they look like glass but are actually plastic -- a good call since Noah's obsession with all things ABALL continues unabated. And the front hall closet really needs a Solution of some kind.
So we went to IKEA. We bought a big boy bed. It has a tent. I wish MY bed had a tent. Like, I am really very annoyed that my bed does not have a tent.
After we disassembled the crib, moved and reassembled the crib in the spare room (which now, with the crib and a wardrobe full of receiving blankets, looks an awful lot like a baby's room, which is GREAT, I AM BEING MOCKED BY A ROOM), assembled the big boy bed and had bitten our potty-mouth tongues down to nubs, we brought Noah in for the unveiling.
He thought about it for a second: "Nope."
It took a few trips -- five, actually -- back upstairs to escort him back to bed, but eventually he figured it out and fell asleep. He slept all night, woke up around 8 and amused himself quietly with his books until Jason went to get him. A raging success, I'd say.
Except...for right now, which is naptime. I don't know what he's doing up there, but I know he is definitely not sleeping. But I've decided I'm okay with that, so long as he continues to not know how to operate a doorknob. Behold, my foolproof plan!
(He was smiling and laughing right up until he realized I had the camera. Then he was all, "WOE FOR POSTERITY. BEHOLD THE TORTURE.")
(Seriously. A TENT. I WOULD NEVER LEAVE MY BED IF IT HAD A TENT.)