The shall remain nameless friend has a serious disdain for toddler beds and turned her nose up at it's utter cuteness, but truth be told, now that it's all said and done.....I was glad to see it go. I could never make the actual bed, Samuel was waaaaaay to big for it and it provided several areas to leap and bound from that just never proved safe.
I didn't even twitch at the thought of moving it out and I have been looking forward to finally decorating his room, which I have put off because of the "transition" bed.
So, we moved the large toy disguised as a bed out of his room and moved a twin mattress in, until I finish painting the bed that Samuel will be using for the time being.
Oh, this woman? This small boy?
I do not know them.
How did I know that this innocent switch around would result in such complete sadness? As we were loading up the bed, I glanced over to the neighbor's yard where the kids were playing and my boy was sobbing big dirty brown tears and throwing his face into his hands.
"Not my firechuck bed! NO, NO, NO I am not a bid boy! I don't want a bid boy bed! I WAAANT MY FIRE.......CHUCK......BED!"
So what I thought would be a harmless move of furniture has turned out to be quite a big day for little Sam. He is warming up to the idea of sleeping in a bed where his legs and arms actually fit onto the mattress. The prospect of sister-sleepovers are appealing as well.
So, when his room is all finished, I will take redeeming pictures of my "bid boy".
I guess marking passages of time with deep sentiment is a genetic trait after all...