My nineteen month old moved to a toddler bed Monday night. Amongst my friends and neighbors with children, this was quite an early move. We had no choice. He was bouncing so high and climbing so much, we knew it was only a matter of time before we had a broken arm to add to the fingers. I will say that it is a surreal experience to see your baby walk to his bed and lie down, like a regular full size person. So far so well. He will go into the bed, then follow you to the door, try the door once, and then there is no peep. On day two I think he needed a little more comfort and when I peaked in on him he was asleep in his Bear chair(this was ridiculously cute).
I am mixed with excitement and sadness of course. I love planning and celebrating these type of milestones. Madeus was so excited and this was infectious. He was telling everybody about his bed (in his own language of course) and would show anyone in the house where it was.
Yet, for a person who fights the dangers of nostalgia everyday, having a child who has been reaching "growing up" markers extremely early is not all it is cracked up to me (ooh editing error but seems Freudian and fitting).
I think this is when you start saying, "But you will always be my baby" (sigh).
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