Sweet dreams.

Last night around 11:00 Emery woke up pretty upset, in fact, I’m not even sure he had gone to sleep yet. I went in to try and soothe him and it was no use. He kept asking me to sleep in “daddy’s bed” and every time I asked him why he thought he needed to he responded with, “Because I’m crying.”

It’s been quite  awhile since he’s felt like he needed to sleep with us, although ever now and then before he gets into his own bed he asks if he can sleep in our bed and when we say ‘no’ he is perfectly content with that answer. Last night was the exception.

Emery asked for his daddy to come in and give him a hug and as soon as he saw Colby he started crying harder and asking, “Can I sleep in your bed?” Colby is a sucker for this and as I kept nudging him to tell him ‘no’ he would nudge me back because he was ready to cave. Eventually,  he ended up in our bed with the understanding that this was the ONLY night he could sleep with us and that tomorrow he had to be a big boy and sleep in his own big boy bed. Ha.

Colby carried him into our room and laid him next to me and as soon as he hit the bed his arms were around my neck telling me, “You’re the best mommy. You’re the best mom. We are best buddies.” I have to admit it was super sweet. It reminds me how far we’ve come. He’s not that squalling baby laying between us anymore. He’s a boy, a very sweet, manipulative boy.

We laid in bed for a good 20 minutes talking with him and asking him why he had been so upset. First, he told me that he was upset because of the smoke detector in his room. Recently he’s noticed this foreign thing on his ceiling and is convinced that it makes him sick, even though we continually tell him that it’s there to keep him safe.

At one point in the conversation he rolled over and looked at me with his hands on each side of my face and said, “I had a problem, it was an emergency. I was sad because I was worried about you.” I told him that little boys shouldn’t have to worry about their parents and it was our job to worry about him. He replies, “Mom, I’m a big boy it is my job.”

Excuse me, when did this happen? When did that little blob that cried all the time, never gave me any feedback as to what was wrong with him, or why he insisted on being up half the night, decide to grow up? Talk about tugging at the heart strings.

I went to bed so absolutely content with my life. I was very thankful that my husband was a sucker for Emery’s late night antics.

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