The Kids' Room

RonnieRoommate, you've been in our bedroom now for almost 2 years.  I mean really, that's 20 years in Grown-Ups-Who-Don't-Want-To-Share-Rooms-With-Babies time.  I think you were a couple of weeks away from studying for your college entrance exams.  It was time.

Yesterday your Dada and I spent most of the day reorganizing your sister's room to get your bed in there.  We crammed the dresser and the bookshelf in the closet (seriously, these kids have a bigger closet than I do, it would make you sick), we finished putting up outlet covers and put a door knob cover on the closet door so we wouldn't wake up to a million books and articles of clothing everywhere.

We were ready for a battle when we took you upstairs.  You've been in Mama's room so long that I wasn't sure you could even fall asleep anywhere else.  I was convinced that you were going to throw a fit that could be heard halfway around the world.

I got you in bed and you fussed a little.  I read Mickey and the Beanstalk and you calmed down a bit.  Time for the real test: lights out.

Not a peep.

We turned on the baby monitor, convinced that you were scaling the walls.

Not a peep.

We changed the batteries in the baby monitor, because they were obviously bad.

Not a peep.

Stupid defective baby monitor, I think it's garbage....

Then we hear: "Yaaaaaaaawn" from RonnieRoommate.

Followed by ShirleyShoosher, "No, no.  No makka noise!  You s'posta be sleeping."

Sweet!

Time for some stiff drinks and Mario Party 8.  We know how to celebrate good times 'round here.