Cuddle Pallows

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Robbie and I have very different definitions of the word cuddle.  I assume it means, well, cuddling.  Robbie’s version of cuddling involves burrowing under the covers, slamming his head back on the “pallow” (pillow), and watching some version of toddler crack.  So, last night after Robbie’s bath, when he told me he wanted to cuddle, I knew what to expect.

After some fast talking about Elmo’s mom making him go to bed, I convinced Robbie that we could cuddle and read a book.  In our bed, of course, because cribs just aren’t made for cuddling.  After two books, cuddling was finished and it was time for bed.  After all, lesson plans aren’t going to write themselves (and, actually, they still haven’t).  Robbie, unfortunately, was not going to have any part of staying in his crib.  There was screaming, legs thrown over the crib.  You know, general mayhem.

So, I made and executive decision.  Robbie could prove that he was a good boy and go to sleep in our bed.  I brought him the requested books, Baby, and Moo.  He stayed put for awhile and then, suddenly, I heard a little shuffling.  I started up the stairs, saying, “Little boys better be in bed”, and looked up to see him scurry back into our room with his green blanket, claimed from the crib.

He played for awhile, quietly, and eventually drifted off to sleep.  Until he fell off the bed at 10:25, right before I was heading up to go to sleep.  When I went to peel his sobbing body off the floor, my eyes fell on the empty spot on Justin’s side of the bed.  I thought I’d smelled something a little minty fresh when I went in the room.  And, in the bed, was the evidence.  While my darling little by was quietly playing, he found the pack of gum on Justin’s nightstand.  He had taken every piece out of the container, licked it, and placed it in the bed.  A nice, fresh treat for Justin when he returns from Florida.

So, tonight, in an effort to keep my bed to myself and Robbie from the floor, I set his mattress up on the floor outside of his crib.  We even bought a pallow for him tonight.  He dove into the sheets when I finished making the bed, and, until five minutes ago, I was convinced that this was really going to work.  Until I heard footed steps on the stairs and a little voices singing out, “Mama?  Happy!”  And he was.  Until I put him back in his bed and put the baby gate in his doorway.

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