Obviously, as it is the main topic of this blog, we are expecting our second bundle of mischief, which means that we have to ready the house and the first born to the new arrangements.
The latest stage we have challenged is sleeping. Sophie has been in her cot bed since about 7/8 months and we’ve never really had any problem. Only one bad case of ‘the monsters under the bed’. Which was resolved with the help of Mickey Mouse. Another story.
We live in a three bedroom house, which currently has a master bedroom, Sophie’s bedroom and daddy’s game/office/spare room. It looks like daddy is going to lose out and the third bedroom will become baby’s room. I don’t mind losing my place of solace for the sake of family harmony. If we have any guests, however, they will be severely pissed off having to share a room with a baby…..
A debate has raised its head in the household though, in that I think having your own bedroom at the age of 2 is a bit spoilt. Shouldn’t young children be sharing a room, so that they can bond, play and learn to like each other? I have been led to believe that my views on this subject are somewhat draconian and that in this day in age, each child should have their own wing complete with bathroom, games room and sleeping annex for all the stuffed toys.
Anyway, the whole crux of this story is that we have had to push forward with getting Sophie into her own bed so that baby will have a cot (we’re too poor to splash out on a new one!). We started a couple of weeks ago. So far, so good.
She has adapted well, and sleeps normally. Although, all we have done is take the sides of her cot off, so there may still be a slight familiar feeling and that when we do actually buy her a new bed, things may be different. But I’m optimistic.
Although last night was the first time that when she needed to go to sleep, she decided to get up and help herself to her toys. Granted, she did at least go for her books and not the loudest toy in the room. False hope? Tonight I’ll probably be awoken by the sound of her sitting at her electric piano, blasting out her renditions of lullabies at the sound of twenty jackhammers.
Oh well, fingers crossed.