secrets.

flower., originally uploaded by Luna Soledad.

Once upon a time, our little guy made a wonderful transition from crib to toddler bed and slept like an angel in his own room. We were so proud.

And then along came a loud, scary thunderstorm one night and frightened him right into our bed where he has been reluctant to leave every since. We spent hours and hours on many a night sitting outside of Liam's room waiting for him to fall into sweet slumber only to awaken at three a.m. with a foot in our ribs or a headbutt to the nose as he nestled in between us. Finally in an exhausted compromise to overcome sleep deprivation, we simply gave up and decided to move his bed into our room. So, our nearly four year old son now sleeps at the foot of our bed.

You can imagine the inconvenience of this arrangement without the need for elaboration, but hey, at least we're able to get some badly needed shut-eye. We can only hope that he moves out before college.

While this does somewhat simply our bedtime routine, he no longer falls asleep by himself and so, bedtime goes something like this...

Tonight (my turn): Liam and I are laying in bed; I have just finished reading two short stories about Biscuit the puppy with Liam "reading" the "Woof! Woof!" parts. Afterward, he is quietly reading his book to himself as he likes to do and I am watching television. When he is done, he clunks me in the head handing me the book and informs me that he is finished and turns his back to me, which tells me he is almost out for the count.

The room is quiet, the volume is low, and suddenly, my son rolls over, creeps up close to me whispering sweetly into my ear in his angelic little boy voice as though he is sharing with me something truly sacred and says, "Jelly don't go in the freezer... jelly goes in the 'frigerator Mommie."

I stifle a snort of laughter, "That's right baby, jelly goes in the refrigerator."

And with that, he's out. =)

"As much as I converse with sages and heroes, they have very little of my love and admiration. I long for rural and domestic scene, for the warbling of birds and the prattling of my children."

...John Adams