Blog Post: No Longer A Baby
My soon-to-be 3-year-old is no longer a baby.
I sit next to him in the dark as he drifts off to sleep. But before he's fully out, he calls to me a few times. I follow the rule book by not saying a word when it's moe moe time. Sleepy time. "Engaging," they call it. Try not to engage the negotiating child when he's stalling trying to fight off sleep. So I keep quiet and stare straight ahead, in the dark, with the faint glow of the nightlight nearby. He calls out to me a few more times. After realizing that I was still sitting in the rocking chair next to his bed—and that I wasn't gonna answer him—out of the corner of my eye I see him sit up and reach for the box of tissue at the foot of his bed. He grabs a tissue. He blows his nose half-successfully in that 2-year-old sort of way. Then he lays back down, makes a few small whimpering noises, and finally drifts off to sleep. And that's when I realize he doesn't need me to blow his nose anymore. Or comfort him and rock him to sleep in the same rocking chair I'm sitting in now as I silently rock back and forth, watching him sleep on his big bed in his own room. Maybe my boy realized this too as he whimpered just a little before relenting and giving up the fight to sleep. Or maybe I'm just being a sentimental sap. I get up from the rocking chair. It's too early to adjust his pillows & sheets or kiss his cheek goodnight since either action would awaken him. But the time is right for me to slip out and go to my own bed, as my boy slides into his deep sleep and dreams his big boy dreams. See you in the morning, kid. Tomorrow you'll be 3. Happy Birthday; I'll love you forever.
