Along with wearing khaki pants and a sweater vest to school, a cozy little room with matching twin beds rounds out my ideal for a well-ordered and proper character-building childhood. So when Charlie expressed interest a number of times in sharing a room with Wes I was encouraging, if a little hesitant to make it official. I do value my sleep, after all.
Not to mention the fact that there are currently two queen sized beds in our room and the "Chillin' at the Holiday Innnnn" jokes are wearing thin. I would love to move one of the beds back down the hall to its rightful job of laundry sorter.
Last night they were both completely exhausted so I thought it would be a good time to start. We got them in their jammies, tucked everyone in, gave kisses all around, and then crept down the stairs.
For a few minutes it seemed to be going well. And then?
Once we had composed ourselves we ran up to see what was going on.
Charlie had removed a plastic bar from the hem of the window shade and was making Wes "dance" by poking his feet with it, through the bars of the crib. Both thought it was hysterical.
As soon as Charlie noticed me standing there he ran back to his bed and hit the bar behind his back, barely able to control the giggles, so hilarious was their little game. Wes continued to bounce happily in the crib, unaware of the entire concept of being in "big trouble."
We removed all possible distractions, put Charlie back in bed, and left.
An hour later everyone was asleep.