Well, it happened.
We moved Natalie's crib into a toddler bed.
I was worried that she'd tumble out of her crib one day. So far she's climbed out without any problems but suppose she slipped and bonked her head?
So I told Tom he'd have to switch it to a toddler bed.
He kept saying that he'd get to it after he played his new computer game.
So an hour slipped by and then he said he was tired and that he wanted to lie down.
I said no way.
Because he had been at church most of the morning. Then he came home and plopped in front of his computer game. And then he's going to announce that he's going to bed?
I think not.
"Doesn't church teach you to help your family out and all that jazz?" I asked him as he started to grumble.
"I didn't get much sleep," he argued.
In the end he agreed to put the toddler bed together. Probably to shut me up.
At first he couldn't find the instructions.
"They're not on here," he said, flipping the booklet that came with the crib.
"They're right HERE," I said, tapping the corner page.
Then he started complaining that I wasn't helping.
"Welcome to my world," I said. "I do basically everything on my own."
So that started him complaining again.
I did help him, by the way.
And it was easy to set up.
Notice that there isn't a pillow or blanket. Why?
Because, okay, Natalie starts off like this:
And then ends up like this:
I'm just worried she'll get twisted up in a blanket.
So how did she do?
Well, she kept coming out of bed. I put a gate up in front of her door and she'd shout, "Bed? Bed?"
I would explain that it was time to go back to bed and lead her back to it.
But then she'd come back to the gate.
This went on until about 9:30. She goes to bed at 8:30.
Finally she tuckered herself out.
But then at four in the morning I heard her voice.
I brought her back to her bed.
Then again at 6:30 which stinks, because my alarm goes off at 7.
I hope she gets better with it.
So what else happened Sunday?
Well, the neighborhood kids struck again.
They kept coming to the door and this one kid kept asking if Tommy could bring more toys out.
"No," I said.
And this kid likes to argue. He's all, "Yeah but we just need one."
"But that's not fair," he'll complain.
Well, the fact that chocolate is so danged fatty and makes my hips expand isn't fair either. But I DEAL with it.
It's what I wanted to say but I didn't.
I just said, "Sorry, no more toys," and shut the door.
Then I heard Tommy crying a while later.
I rushed out and he was in the driveway, head down, sniffling. Another boy was with him.
"Those older kids aren't being nice," the kid told me, pointing across the way to wear a bunch of older kids were. They looked to be around twelve or so.
"What are they doing?" I asked, shooting them a dirty look. They pretended not to see me and quickly looked away.
"They're calling Tommy a crybaby," the kid explained.
Tommy sniffled again. "I am NOT a crybaby," he shouted towards the older kids.
I saw a few of them snickering.
"Those little fu--" I started and then caught myself in time.
No Amber. You cannot use the f-word in front of children.
I swallowed it down. "They're being, erm, fudgeheads," I corrected.
The kid made a face. "What's THAT?" he asked, clearly confused.
(I was a little confused myself.)
"Just that they're not being nice," I said. I looked at Tommy. "Just ignore them. If you ignore them they'll get bored and leave you alone. If they keep it up, let me know."
And then I went inside and peeked out the window. Thankfully those kids rode off on their bikes.
I swear, if I ever see someone picking on Tommy I'm going to talk to their parents.
Granted I know Tommy is an overemotional kid but honestly, why aren't the parents teaching their kids to be NICE to little kids?
That's what I always stress to Tommy. That it's important to be NICE.
Oh and the toy I did allow outside?
It broke. These kids have no respect for other people's things.
When I saw the broken tank I boomed, "WHO DID THIS?" and probably freaked out the other kids.
They need to be nicer to Tommy's things.
Or else I might slip one day and use a profanity.