Lofton and I have lived a pretty blissful existence these last three years. While other parents struggled with babies who crawled out of cribs, or toddlers who wouldn’t stay in bed, we’ve smirked... scoffed, even, at those people because our sweet boy always was content to stay in his bed until we went in to get him. Sure, he doesn’t sleep at night, but he’s always been happy just to yell our names {over and over again} until we rescued him from the bear cave. Until now.
Yesterday morning, I followed my usual morning routine {except for my back issue but that’s a whole separate blog post}. When I walked down the very dark hall to get Reese up, I was startled, quite literally, to find the toddler standing at the end of the hall. Ready to greet me. Shoot.
I told him he surprised me, explained that it was dangerous to get out of bed without us knowing because the house is so dark, and we went on our merry way.
Except not.
THIS morning, Chuck Norris climbed himself out of bed, walked down the long dark hall, went into the kitchen, opened the pantry and then got himself some fruit snacks. Oh yes he did.
Hell’s bells. This is an issue.
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