The Big Boy Room - Martha Stewart watch out!

Over the last few weeks, we've managed to negotiate a successful transition to Jonathan's big boy room. I was a little nervous that he'd balk at giving up the crib - he's always been happy in there and never even tried to climb out. Still, the change needed to happen, so we approached the changeover with - well, with certainly more "strategery" than went into an exit plan for Iraq.

First, we decided to splurge and buy a toddler bed, even though Jonathan will outgrow it in a year or two. Chris found an awesome one online that is shaped like a FIRE TRUCK! As soon as I saw that, I knew the transition was going to be a lot easier than I anticipated. It was delivered pretty quickly, along with some suitably masculine bedding. The box fit so well into our master plan, since it sported a big full-color photo of the assembled bed and a very happy little boy. We carried it down to the holding area of the basement for Chris to put together. Jonathan soon sniffed it out and fell in love. He took to announcing "Sleepy!" and draping himself over the box with an exaggerated sigh. He'd look up to make sure we were watching and ask "Sleep firetruck bed?" We faked boredom and told him "You can sleep in it in a few weeks, when it's put together."

Next, Chris heroically emptied all the heavy furniture out of the office that was destined to be Jonathan's new pad. I was no help whatsoever in the muscle department but did a nice job of directing. We left the family pictures on the wall and soon Jonathan was pointing out "Unca Sol" and "Auntie Chay" at every opportunity. We had to empty out the closet as well, which had become a sort of general storage over the years. When we found the Drunken Sombrero and the fish windsock I had bought in San Francisco's Chinatown, we decided we were halfway through the decorating, and hung them on the wall. Jonathan dubbed these "big fish" and "big hat."

Finally, we got the bed put together and made with new mattress and comforter. We still had no lighting and no outlet covers, so Jonathan was allowed in to look at the bed, but not to sleep. Each night as I tucked him in to his crib, he'd ask to sleep in his firetruck bed, and each night I'd tell him regretfully "Maybe tomorrow." We stuck some outlet plugs in the wall and barricaded the lamp behind a bookshelf and dresser. The next day, Jonathan conned his nanny into letting him nap in the firetruck bed. He sacked out for three hours and has napped there every day since.

The last part of the transition was to modify the bedtime routine. Jonathan still gets his three stories, but I needed to sit with him in his room, since the glider is staying in the nursery. So we went to World Market for their giant 75% off clearance sale. It's sort of a Pier One knockoff with food. They had two big shelves of pillows and I bought a whole selection in browns and greens. It's definitely eclectic - there's a bolster in salmon paisley, a green and brown awning stripe in rough-woven cotton, and an Indian batik print with tiny mirrors sewn in. There are a couple of green silk throws and a big shaggy brown floor cushion. The whole shebang cost me about $30, and I thought they'd do great as a snug little reading corner.

Well, the corner is still occupied by the barricaded lamp - we're waiting on a weekend trip to Lowe's to fix that. The pillows are piled up next to the bed, and that's where we read each night. But the nanny began noticing that certain pillows were migrating into bed with Jonathan during his naptime. He's especially fond of the bolster, which has a fat button tucked into each end, and likes the cotton weave with its long fringe on his other side.

So here's the new bedtime routine. We still dress him in the crib, but that will have to change soon. Then we go next door and Jonathan pulls all the doors closed. We say goodnight to all the people in the pictures, and to the big hat and the big fish. I arrange the pillows on the floor and we read our three stories. It really tickles Jonathan to have a special pillow for his feet. Then we have a little snuggle in the dark, and he climbs into the bed. I now have to tuck in three bears, two pillows, a sheet, a comforter, and his pastel baby blankie which covers all the manly bedding. I lean over and give him a kiss, and the ladder siderail digs into my belly each time. Then it's "Night night!" and "Sleep tight!" and I shut the door.

It's not all coordinated fish like the nursery, but I wouldn't have it any other way.

He's advanced for his age

Eyes back to normal, it's time to brag about Jonathan's latest doings.

We got him some lovely wooden puzzles a while ago. I hauled out the one graded "3 and up" because it was a transportation theme. Jonathan's puzzles to date have not had interlocking pieces. Instead, you press the shapes into their precut nests on the base board. But this was a true puzzle with twelve pieces. At first, Jonathan tried to smush random pieces together. He'd quickly get frustrated when the train or the optator would not appear, and ask for "help? Help?" He spent about a week watching me put it together again and again and again. Eventually, he started reaching for pieces. I'd explain basic puzzle strategy to him: "See, there's a bit of the schoolbus. And this piece has another bit of schoolbus. So we LIFT and then we LOCK."

Now, two weeks later, he can whip that whole thing together in a minute flat. He holds up a piece, tests it, says "No. . . no. . . yes!" After he's done, he looks at the completed vignette for all of two seconds, then overturns it, breaks up the pieces and starts again. When he's truly done for the day, he'll say "Cookie!" and shove the pieces in his mouth like Cookie Monster, complete with "Arrrum rumrum."

Jonathan's developed a more discerning palate as well. I don't stress too much about the foods he rejects or accepts. He gets to eat what's on his plate, and if he doesn't like it, well, there's always the next meal. All I ask is that he not throw the offending items on the floor. Jonathan showed remarkable ability to remove every last offending shred of arugula from his pizza the other night. He'd tease out the green leaf from the cheese, announce "Don't like it!" and put it in the designated dumping zone of his high chair tray. The sauce, cheese, and crust, on the other hand, were pronounced "Delicious." It's my new favorite word of his.

When things are delicious, they disappear pretty fast. We took Jonathan to the playground yesterday, while it's still so warm out. He swang on the swings and then headed over to the big kid's climbing gym, where he scaled a curved ladder and came down the big slides. Afterwards, we went to Ragazzi's for dinner. They brought out a kid's pizza about twelve inches around. Jonathan ate the entire thing and then scarfed a good third of Chris's linguine - he just loved the clam sauce. I took him for a little walk around the restaurant while Chris paid the bill. The hostess filled a balloon with helium and bent down to tie it on his wrist. Fascinated by her cleavage, he asked "What's dat?" and stuck his hand down her shirt.

We need to find a new Italian restaurant.

Our little trouper

Jonathan has goopy eyes. That's the nontechnical term, at least. He picked up a virus, most likely at the mall playground we visited over the rainy weekend. I'd forgotten how much time I spent wiping his eye when he was little. He had a blocked tear duct that finally opened up when he was about a year old, but before then, I had to wipe away goop every day. Anyway, the cold virus probably caused the still-narrow duct to swell closed again. The eye got goopy, then swollen and kind of red. So (after a LONG wait at the pediatrician's office today) we got him a prescription for some amoxicillin, and we hope he'll feel better soon.

He's such a brave little boy when he's sick. The first night this virus hit, we found him soaking wet in bed with a fever of 104. He wanted to be picked up for a little cuddle, and asked for some water. Chris brought him a sippy cup and he took it and said "thank you" spontaneously! He had a little drink and then asked to go back to bed. Yesterday he spent looking at books, playing quietly with his puzzles, and drinking soup. He doesn't fuss much, just comes over for extra cuddles and goes on his way. He does really like "medicine" and asked for some last night. I think they've made great strides in the taste department since I was a kid.

Today he's really at the end of his rope. I came home late but he was still up and insisted on some hugs and kisses. It's tough to avoid the contagious eye goop when he's trying to kiss you! We were getting him ready for bed when he took a little tumble and knocked his forehead on the doorjamb. It was a tiny bump, but it seemed to be the straw that broke the camel's back. Poor Jonathan had finally hit his limit. He cried and cried for ten minutes straight. Finally, with some new water and a reading of "Little Bear," he was ready to settle in to bed. I think he'll be up a few times tonight, but I'll actually be glad of the chance to check in on him. We hope after tomorrow's doses of medicine to see him feeling better.

Haveeda Susans?

We've had a lovely bit of time off around here for the holidays. We drove up to the Kwons' on the 24th to spend Christmas Eve together. As soon as we got in the door, Jonathan started asking for the doggie, which confused us all. He hugged Grandma and Harabojee somewhat impatiently, then headed for the front door. "Doggie" turned out to be the little draft-catcher with a dog's head that apparently Jonathan remembered quite well. He also had a great time rediscovering the giant Mickey Mouse he'd received for his 100 days party. It's a measure of how much he's grown that he's now taller than Mickey, and what was before a terrifyingly large rodent is now an old friend.

Christmas Eve dinner was a combination of traditional American and Korean foods. We sat Jonathan at the end of the formal dining table and I filled his plate with things I thought he might like. He got a scoop of rice cooked with beans and barley, some beef and some ham, and some fruit salad. I thought with such a plateload, I'd be able to concentrate on my own dinner for a while.

I thought wrong. Heaving Mickey up onto the sofa again and again must have helped Jonathan to work up an appetite, because I swear that entire plate was empty in under two minutes. I could not cut the beef and chicken fast enough - he'd eat three pieces in the time it took me to cut two more. At one point I switched to the marinated tofu, thinking the novelty at least might slow him down. He liked it and instantly christened it "Tofood" - and wanted more.

Finally, all of us comfortably full, we made our way back to the living room to open presents. Jonathan has got the technique down. He searches all over to find an unsecured flap, makes an initial rip, and then the pieces start to fly. He was thrilled with the packages Grandma got him, all of which contained cars. By the end of the night, he had a whole fleet. Our little budding valet parker spent about thirty minutes carefully lining them all up on the coffee table. Then he would select two and crash them together.

Christmas Eve was also Jonathan's first night in a big boy bed. Grandma Kwon had folded up some foam padding to make a mattress, then piled it with quilts and blankets, making Jonathan a little pallet beside our bed. He was worn out from the excitement of the evening (not to mention the food-induced coma) so when we carried him upstairs he snuggled in quite happily. I came up to bed a few hours later and found him half off the bed, face on the carpet. I heaved him (he was completely limp) back into bed and tucked myself in. Several times during the night, however, I would wake up to check on him, and he was always on the floor. One time he had even migrated under our bed! I think, after a rock hard crib mattress for two years, the pallet was just too soft for him.

The next day, after a little Christmas breakfast and lunch, we headed over to Liz and Jim's. Once again, Jonathan showed some pretty good long-term memory. He ran right down the hall to see Mr. Ooga Booga, and was indignant that Auntie Liz had put the truck and the bee on a high shelf for safekeeping. He also wasn't prepared to leave until he saw Kermit, and Jim gamely went looking. In the meantime, Jonathan terrorized Moonpie and Harry.

We drove up in two cars to Baltimore. The men's car got there a little late as Jim took them on a tour of Baltimore neighborhoods. Jonathan was napping when they arrived, and was passed around to anyone who wanted a thirty-pound furnace to snuggle. Finally, as the Woods were tackling their mound of presents, Jonathan woke up. He showed off by counting all the candles in the fireplace, and as always, had some special hellos for Nanny. There were some lovely presents for Jonathan (as well as for Chris and me) in the pile, and as Jonathan's attention started to wander, I picked out one with a promising feel. We called Jonathan over and watched the shreds of paper fly.

It was an airplane! One of the Fisher Price vehicles that Jonathan enjoys so much. For his birthday, Bobby and Mary Jo had given him the dump truck, and Jonathan had decided the Little People driver was named Susan, after a girl in one of his favorite books. The Little People all look very much alike, short and squat like fireplugs. The airplane came with three more - a pilot and two tourists. Jonathan loved flying it all over the living room, and when the people fell out, he'd ask us "Where'd Susan go?"

For Christmas dinner, Jonathan loved the "as-ah-nya" that his auntie fed him. Bobby and Jack took turns holding him up to the wall displays, where he picked out a tiny train and an Ernie, among other treasures. He managed to open the TV cabinet to get to the llama that stood inside. Still, many times during the evening, he would come back to the airplane. If he couldn't find the passengers, he'd come over to where I was sitting, asking "Haveeda Susans?"