Big Boy Bed

I was alone in the kitchen, doing something my mother told me never to do -- staring into the refrigerator with the door wide open. "Hmm, what shall I pick for a snack?" I thought.

I settled on 1/4 of a gnawed triangle of brie and a Coke, carrying them to the living room. After selecting "Star Trek" on the TiVo, I plopped down onto the couch to enjoy Quiet Time (it ceased being Nap Time long ago. For Grace, at least).

Thump thump thump thump.

The pounding of tiny feet came through the ceiling.

Thump thump thump thump.

Apparently, William was enjoying nap time with his new Big Boy Bed. And by "enjoying", I mean running around his room like a crazy person.

A few days before this, I was in William's room, taking his crib apart with an Allen wrench. He was quite confused.

"But what are you doing to my bed?" he asked. (He often starts questions with "but". We've decided to find it charming.)

"I'm taking it apart, honey. Your big boy bed is coming today. Aren't you excited?"

"Well," he said (he often starts statements with "well"), "I think I don't like my big boy bed."

"Why not?"

"Well, because it doesn't have a crib."

"I think you'll like your new bed, honey. And we're going to give your crib to a baby who doesn't have a crib. Isn't that nice?"

He didn't answer.

The night before, his mother and I took a picture of him getting into his crib for the last time. Later that night, we took a picture of his first night in his bed (we're dorks).

As I watched Kirk seduce a green female alien, chewing my heel of brie, I listened to the kid upstairs enjoying his newfound freedom. That's what he is now -- a kid. That's what they both are, in fact. No more babies, no more toddlers. No more cribs, diapers, binkies, onsies or mustard poo.

They're kids now. My kids. Let the next stage of this adventure begin.

Visit Daddy Daze's personal blog