B's been in his toddler bed for over a month now, but the last few days he's been getting out of it and wandering around his room. Most of his naptime is spent laying on the carpeted-floor, right in front of his bedroom door (that is locked from the outside, btw). Am I too old to remember the excitement of sleeping on the floor during slumber parties, relishing the coziness of my sleeping bag and belly full of ice cream? B has neither the comfy sleepy bag nor the ice cream before his nap each day, so why would he want to sleep on the hard floor? My mom even bought him Curious George sheets for his bed, for crying out loud!
As crazy as I find his new naptime adventures, I still get a squeezemystomachhappiness when I think about having to go into his room and tell him to get back in bed, and he is standing there with his glow worm pressed against his chest and mittens that he's found in his dresser on his little hands. I race excitedly downstairs to tell/call my husband, and we smile and try and commit this memory to our minds, so we don't forget B's sweet idiosyncrasies that we love more than anything in the world.
I need to start bringing my camera with me everywhere, so I could have taken a picture of those stinkin' mittens on his little hands, eyes looking so proud to have put them on himself.