Until a few weeks ago, naps and bedtimes were no big deal. We went though the routines for each and Sophia knew what to expect and what was expected. Then suddenly along with diaper changes before it, naps became a struggle with kicking legs, running off, and general squirminess. I began carrying her to the crib like a kicking and screaming football, standing back up as I ran out of the room. She would pitch a fit in her crib for about ten minutes and then lay down and talk to her stuffed animals. More than half the time she would fall asleep within thirty minutes, but the struggles beforehand were exhausting for me. So what did I finally do about it? I set her free of course.
Friday I finally took down the side of the crib and replaced it with the board that turns it into a toddler bed. Sophia of course ‘helped’ me. She kept track of the screws and handed them to me as I needed them. The ones I didn’t need right away she tried pushing into the empty holes and blocked me from being able to align the board. Her ‘help’ really made the transformation about twice as long as necessary, but she was happy about the whole thing. She took her fist nap in her toddler bed on Friday without any problems. She happily crawled right into bed. Thanks to my aunt I even have a way to ensure Sophia won’t roll out of bed. My aunt made Sophia a twin-size baby quilt. I have it folded in half, put Sophia in the quilt sandwich with the fold on the outside, and tuck in the two loose edges on the opposite side.
We used to leave Bear, Moose, and Friend in her crib all day unless she requested them. We actually forced her to request each by name, “a Bow”, “en Moose”, “en Fend-EE”. Sometimes she was in such a bad mood that she didn’t want to say anything, but needed them for comfort so she used signs for the two that we know, Bear and Friend. On one occasion, two months ago, she became so angry with me for forcing her to say or sign for her comfort items that she decided to get whichever ones she could reach. Bear was close to the side, so with one hand she reached in, grabbed him, and lifted him to the top of the crib bars. With her other hand she reached over the top and removed him from her first hand. She glared at me as if to say, “This! This is what I want. Now get me my other stuff. Chop Chop!” I was thoroughly impressed with her problem solving skills, but not so much with the lack of speech. She finally had to break down and request the other items. On Saturday after the cage came down, she asked for her friends by name, and I told her she could get them all herself now. “OH!” She said.
The past two mornings I’ve heard the sounds of a waking toddler and waited a few minutes to see if she would come out of her room on her own. After a few more minutes, I open her door to see she’s sitting up still in bed. It seems that, at least for now, she needs our permission to leave her invisible confines.
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