Wednesday, May 19, 2010

Heck Yeah, Fence ‘Em In!


Ok, I have discovered that there is a reason why baby beds are made with bars.  Well, a couple of reasons, actually.  1)  To protect the little turds so that they don’t hurt themselves and 2) To keep Mommy sane.

Care to guess what happens when you suddenly remove the bars from around a 3-year-old’s world?  Oh yeah, hurricane season.  If you can imagine what it might be like if, say, the razor wire were removed from prison fences, then you might get a picture of the utter devastation and chaos that took over my house upon removing the only contraption that kept the boys remotely contained.  Let’s hear it for big-boy beds!

There was jumping.  And there was dumping of dresser drawers.  And there was licking of the bedroom windows (yeah, I know, the neighbors probably wonder what kind of little freaks we are raising).

And there were I-told-you-so’s.  Those were from Jason.  Well, ok, he didn’t actually SAY it, but I could tell he was thinking it.  And he had that look—the I-told-you-so look that makes his eyes all squinty and twitchy.  And his lips kind of curled, like he was almost ready to say it, but wisely enough, he refrained.  Because if I had heard that little phrase, I think my head might have literally spun around on my shoulders, and people would have been calling in an exorcist.  But he was quiet.  Which was good.

When I first came dragging home the big-boy beds, all I heard was, “They are never going to stay in those.”

And of course, I said (scoff, scoff, eye roll), “Of course they will.  They are Three.  Years.  Old.  We are bigger than they are.  We are stronger.  We can tell them what to do.”

And then he said, “Um no, they are never going to stay in there.”

So you know what I did?  I had to prove a point.  I hauled those big-boy beds upstairs and ripped apart the room that was formerly a baby safehouse.  We don’t need no stinkin’ bars.  We just gotta tell ‘em who’s boss.

Yeah.  I told ‘em.  And I’m not sure whether they heard me or whether maybe they just decided to file that in the doesn’t-matter-to-me section of their little heads, but either way, they did not stay in their beds.  Not for one little second.

But on the upside, do you know that if you run up and down the stairs to threaten your kids enough, you don’t have to go to the gym?  Yep, it counts as a full and complete workout.  I mean, I didn’t have the digital calorie counter on me, but I’m thinking I burned off yesterday’s Reese’s Pieces.

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