The Pitter Patter of Little Feet

It's bedtime and all is calm. Scrag has gone down in his cot with his bottle. Dash is in his room quietly playing cards. I am perched on the edge of Miss Fab's bed saying goodnight, when I hear the distinctive sound of Scrag's door opening.

Thinking it's his big brother going in to kiss him goodnight, I race up the hallway whispering furiously, "Dash, get out of Scrag's room... he's going to sleep...!"
Er, no. He isn't. He is standing in the hallway, in his fluffy turquoise sleepsuit looking very pleased with himself.
He has climbed out of his cot!

I'm stunned. Those cot sides are high! This cot has kept our last bub contained long past when the others were climbing out and moving into big-kid beds. (Thirteen months old, those other two monkeys climbed out of their cots). With this lovely cot (borrowed from Gail) I have been lulled into a false sense of security. My little one goes down easily. If he makes a protest, I can ignore him for a bit and he'll drop off to sleep after a bit of complaining or singing.

Surely those days can't be over already?
I have to hope maybe this was a fluke, right??

I pop him back in his cot, and flop onto the couch in the lounge to watch TV.
Creak. Pitter patter, pitter patter. The sound of little feet coming my way.

A be-dummied grin appears around the corner of the door. He is so proud of himself.
Back to the cot we go; flop back on the couch, turn up the TV...
Creak. Pitter patter, pitter patter. The sound of little feet coming my way.

This is getting a bit monotonous and I groan inwardly realising the shape of my evening to come...

How long can we play this game? All night it seems. He really doesn't want to go down in his cot.
OK a snuggle then. He lays in my arms and his eyelids droop. Righto, back to bed sonny boy.
Back to the cot we go; I flop back on the couch, turn up the TV...

Creak. Pitter patter, pitter patter. The sound of little feet coming my way.

Every time I return him to the cot there is a a great outcry. Miss Fab has successfully fallen to sleep, but poor Dash has his room right next door to the battle ground.
By now it's 8 o'clock. Now I have a big boy complaining as well as a little boy. Dash is lonely. He doesn't want to sleep by himself; he wants a snuggle...

A lightbulb goes off in my head.
"Want to sleep with Scrag??" I ask.
Oh yes! He has been waiting for this day since Scrag was born; the day he gets to share a room with his little brother. We rush to get blankets and pillows. The boys snuggle in together on the bottom bunk.
I return hopefully to the couch and the TV. All is quiet.
Then I hear whispering... and movement... Dash appears at the lounge door.
"Mum he's annoying me! he won't go to sleep!"
Sigh. Well it was a great plan, I thought.

I scoop up the little one and pop him in his cot. Sirens begin to wail, as a storm of tears bursts upon us...
"MUP! MUP!" he pleads. "Doh! Doh! Gucky bo'nighnighs! I'na Doh bed!" (Click here for a translation)
One last chance, I warn him. Go to sleep like a good boy.
The storm subsides as quickly as it began. The boys snuggle together in the bottom bunk; as I leave the room I hear Dash whisper to Scrag, "Now go to sleep Scrag, OK...?"

Silence.
I flop on the couch, and turn up the TV.
Peace reigns throughout the house as they finally drop off to the Land of Nod together. It's 9pm.

Later, daddy comes home and moves Dash up to the top bunk, but not before I snap a few pictures of my sleeping sons, nestled cosily together.

This morning the boys are full of plans. Dash is busy making up Scrag's bed with his Thomas quilt and pillow. He even makes his own bed...! As far as the boys are concerned, Scrag has now joined Dash in the big boys bunks. They are now sharing a room.

How long will it last? How long before the novelty wears off and Dash wishes for his own space again?

Who knows, we'll cross that bridge when we come to it. But as I write this now, my baby is having a nap in his big boy bed. It's the end of an era.

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