night night beautiful boy

Since I became a parent

I have lost track of the amount of times I've said

"its all flying by so fast"

or "slow down time"

or "where did my baby go?"

Children are learning all the time,

embracing every opportunity to grow and explore

and to 'get big' right before our eyes.

My beautiful boy is no exception to this.

As we look at him next to his baby sister

it's clear to see that he's come a very long way

since we brought home our tiny little man on a cold day in 2011.

He's taken to brotherhood brilliantly,

just like he's taken to everything else he's ever had thrown at him.

He never ceases to amaze us with the way he just gets on with things.

Not long after his sister was born

we took the sides off of his cot,

and he was brilliant.

He just went to bed as normal,

excited about his proper bed.

I hovered outside his door

waiting...

for signs he had got up,

or fallen out of bed,

or just any indication he might need me.

But he didn't,

and I felt so proud of him.

His future big boy bed has always been in his room,

we play on it,

read stories on it,

have tickle parties on it.

And lately he has been asking to have some of his naps

in the "big good boy bed".

We went with him, took his lead and let him,

and relished the proud faces when he woke up.

But bed time has always meant a return to his "little boy bed",

at night time he always wanted that familiar smaller bed.

I know myself pretty well now,

and I know that if I build things up

then I make them worse for myself.

When he chose to stop breastfeeding at a year

I felt devastated because I hadn't been able to linger over our last feed and enjoy it.

But if I had had the opportunity to decide when our last feed together was,

then I would have found excuses not to stop,

I probably would have cried,

and it wouldn't have been the same.

So at the weekend, we just decided one day 

that it was time for him to try a night in his big boy bed.

Just like that.

The signs were there that he would be fine,

so I moved all his bedding over to the big single bed,

hoping that it would make it all seem more familiar,

and come bed time my little man was snuggled into his big bed.

Of course in his usual style he loved it.

Not a peep from him,

despite my hovering in the hall and checking him all evening.

So the following day I put the bars back on his cot.

No going back now.

The bedroom is now ready to be shared 

by my two favourite little people.

That cot is ready for another baby to sleep in it,

while its previous occupant has moved on;

graduated like the big boy he is 

to sleeping in a big boy bed.

And I'm left with that sad feeling 

that I didn't enjoy tucking him into his baby bed one more time,

that he won't sleep again in that cot bed that we lovingly picked out for him before he was born.

He kind of feels like he's officially left babyhood behind.

And I think I'm entitled to a bit of time indulging in feeling melancholy about that.

He now calls his old cot his sister's bed.

Just like that,

he's moved on to bigger and better things.

And I am so proud that like every other milestone

he's just taken it in his stride

and embraced the changes without a backward glance.

But I'm going to do a little bit of backward glancing for him,

and wonder where my baby went...

my beautiful boy at bedtime on his first night in his big boy cot