Friday, November 10, 2006
Sweet Pea made a successful transition into a big girl bed this week. The last two nights she hasn’t even gotten up to look at books or play with her toys in the dark. (The first night we found her dragging all her belongings into our master bathroom – the only room upstairs with a light on.)
This is big time exciting at our house. New sheets, new pillows, new bedtime ritual. Brand new thing to be paranoid about.
I made it successfully to adulthood without ever happening upon my parents in any compromising situations. If youknowhatImean. That is, I’m certain, because my mother remains to this day a Virgin. That’s right, capital V. I know this to be fact, because A) she is my mother. And B) my brother and I are both adopted. The only way for a capital V Virgin to obtain children. Of course.
The problem is – and I’m going to let you in on a little secret here – I am NOT a virgin. Capital V or otherwise. Bowm-chicka-bowm-bowm. And my bedroom is just a few steps from Sweet Pea’s bedroom. When she was captive in her little crib, this was not a concern. But I’m guessing we’ve only got another couple of days before she figures out she doesn’t have to wait for me to come and get her out of bed before she can leave her room.
Plus, ever since the transition to the big girl bed, she has requested that we leave her door open. So we can’t even hear her coming.
Do I make her wear a bell? Making her sleep in a crib until college doesn’t seem like a good solution. None of those stupid books address the issue of helping mommy and daddy get their swerve on. And I can tell you right now that just the thought of Cindy Lou Who appearing bedside at an inappropriate moment is putting a major damper on my libido.
The kitty collar approach is sounding better and better by the minute.