{disclaimer: yes, my house is a mess. yes, it does look like this most of the time. four boys live in this 800-sq-ft apartment; let's be realistic.}
My Max jumped out of his crib.
We took the crib away.
He cried.
"What? Where bed?"
My brother gave him a toddler bed.
We've had 6 long nights of
PLEASE GO TO SLEEP BEFORE I DUCT TAPE YOU TO YOUR BED
and now this:
A few minutes later...
A few minutes later...
Another minute later...
{you can't see it, but he's laughing and jumping, mocking me}
And then...
{Poop?!}
Getting frustrated...
{there was no poop - just the 2-yr-old's idea of stalling technique}
What you missed in between:
"Mommy, you are nicer than anything."
{oh, the things Asher will say to charm me into letting him stay up}
"But Mom, you didn't kiss Teddy and Lamby!"
{Joshua will be 30 and still considering Teddy as a legitimate member of this family}
"Drink a ba-ba. No go bed."
{Max will be the death of me.}
Result, after only 2 hours:
{huge improvement over the last 5 nights}
{Hallelujah}
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