The Emperor's new throne
Mar. 21st, 2008 04:18 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
grammarwomanFriday afternoon, and I have almost completely pissed away the day. Not good for the workload, but I just can’t bring myself to care.
The Emperor is…Well, he’s a handful, and a clown, and a genius, and so full of potential that I’m scared of failing him. We’ve been telling him for a while that he could have a big boy bed if he used the toilet on a regular basis, and sure enough, about three weeks ago it finally sunk into his head. He made a consistent effort to use the bathroom at home and day-care, so we prevailed upon my husband’s parents for one of their aged twin mattresses. It arrived two weekends ago.
In lieu of having to procure a box spring or put rails on the bed, we just installed it on the floor, with no Imperial complaints. He immediately set about testing its springboard capabilities; even after a half hour of excited jumping and running around, he still wasn’t worn out enough to settle down to sleep within a couple of hours. It’s gotten better since then. I’m not sure if day-care is to thank for it, but he’s also never given us grief about staying in his bed (once deposited there for the night). He’ll call us up, sure, but we’ve haven’t had any midnight visits, or even early morning ones.
In the meantime, he’s graduated to going dry almost the whole day at day-care, plus pooping in the toilet. (Those who’ve suffered through potty training can appreciate what a big leap this is.) However, he’s regressed on the home front, telling us every time that he’ll use the bathroom tomorrow. *sigh* The main effective threat now is to tell him that only big boys can sleep in a big boy bed, and if he can’t use the potty, we’ll have to put his crib back. Sometimes (like this morning) it takes several repetitions, plus outright bribery, but he comes around.
We took another big step today and put him in actual underpants. His day-care is closed for the holiday, so he’s been under Daddy’s supervision; I’m waiting to hear how he did.
Other random bits:
We have a saying that when things (usually toys that weren’t put away properly) can’t be found, that they’ve gone POOF. The other day, the Emperor informed me that he could find the latest item that had gone POOF by going POOF himself. I thought that was a delightful little bit of existential wisdom.
Our latest bedtime game is playing Bear. The Emperor picks a parent to team up with (usually me) and then decides on who will be the Bear (usually him). The non-bear party hides somewhere upstairs and waits for the Bear to find them, whereupon the Bear growls and the hiding parties scream in mock terror. Repeat until we end the game, usually to the protest of “Two more minutes, please!”. (You know that scene from “Say Anything” where Ione Skye’s character talks about having a frequently sampled scream? I feel like we’ve got an untapped market in the Emperor’s piercing cries; horror movies ain’t got nothing on the earsplitting pitches he can reach. Yowzers.)
Easter Sunday will find us heading out to the in-laws. Someone else’s cooking, a chance to hang with other grownups, and a crowd of people to keep an eye on the Emperor? IMSOTHERE.
Happy spring festival of your choice, everyone! *MWAH*
The Emperor is…Well, he’s a handful, and a clown, and a genius, and so full of potential that I’m scared of failing him. We’ve been telling him for a while that he could have a big boy bed if he used the toilet on a regular basis, and sure enough, about three weeks ago it finally sunk into his head. He made a consistent effort to use the bathroom at home and day-care, so we prevailed upon my husband’s parents for one of their aged twin mattresses. It arrived two weekends ago.
In lieu of having to procure a box spring or put rails on the bed, we just installed it on the floor, with no Imperial complaints. He immediately set about testing its springboard capabilities; even after a half hour of excited jumping and running around, he still wasn’t worn out enough to settle down to sleep within a couple of hours. It’s gotten better since then. I’m not sure if day-care is to thank for it, but he’s also never given us grief about staying in his bed (once deposited there for the night). He’ll call us up, sure, but we’ve haven’t had any midnight visits, or even early morning ones.
In the meantime, he’s graduated to going dry almost the whole day at day-care, plus pooping in the toilet. (Those who’ve suffered through potty training can appreciate what a big leap this is.) However, he’s regressed on the home front, telling us every time that he’ll use the bathroom tomorrow. *sigh* The main effective threat now is to tell him that only big boys can sleep in a big boy bed, and if he can’t use the potty, we’ll have to put his crib back. Sometimes (like this morning) it takes several repetitions, plus outright bribery, but he comes around.
We took another big step today and put him in actual underpants. His day-care is closed for the holiday, so he’s been under Daddy’s supervision; I’m waiting to hear how he did.
Other random bits:
We have a saying that when things (usually toys that weren’t put away properly) can’t be found, that they’ve gone POOF. The other day, the Emperor informed me that he could find the latest item that had gone POOF by going POOF himself. I thought that was a delightful little bit of existential wisdom.
Our latest bedtime game is playing Bear. The Emperor picks a parent to team up with (usually me) and then decides on who will be the Bear (usually him). The non-bear party hides somewhere upstairs and waits for the Bear to find them, whereupon the Bear growls and the hiding parties scream in mock terror. Repeat until we end the game, usually to the protest of “Two more minutes, please!”. (You know that scene from “Say Anything” where Ione Skye’s character talks about having a frequently sampled scream? I feel like we’ve got an untapped market in the Emperor’s piercing cries; horror movies ain’t got nothing on the earsplitting pitches he can reach. Yowzers.)
Easter Sunday will find us heading out to the in-laws. Someone else’s cooking, a chance to hang with other grownups, and a crowd of people to keep an eye on the Emperor? IMSOTHERE.
Happy spring festival of your choice, everyone! *MWAH*
