His very own bedroom.

Just a day in the life ;)  Goofy, through and through.

So, we've changed the house all around, again.  I know it probably seems pathological by now,  but the kid's needs keep changing as he grows, so our space keeps changing too...

B.P (Before Phoenix), I could switch our entire loft around, move every piece of furniture, clothing, book, you name it, clean the whole loft and have it all put back together by the end of the day.  And we had a lot of shit back then.  But nothing, nothing, compares to switching a house around once you have a kid.  Thank gawd E and I have purged almost everything we own (or stored it at my mom's - thanks mom!!!)  

So, long story short, three thousand sea shells, pet rocks, and tiny trinkets later, the toys and the beds cohabitate and the dining table is back by the kitchen (our beloved family dinners rejoiced!).  Apparently, the child doesn't remember ever having beds in between nightstands with lamps on them (we've been in the tiny room with the loft for so long.)  So as we shoved stuff into new spots, the child exclaimed, "This is like a real bedroom.  This is how other people have their houses!"  I chuckled, I couldn't help it, and he said, "No, really, Mama.  If you go to other people's houses, this is just how they do it.  Beds with tables and lamps and rugs at the ends...  This is just like a real house now!"  

Alex P Keaton, calling Alex P Keaton.  

I also cleared everything out of our storage area, erm, I mean hallway, which was an undertaking of momentous proportions.  And as I hauled and hoisted, the child was fabulously, startlingly, self-entertaining.   He took a paper BB and decorated him, gabbing at me about the story that was unfolding with each new body addition.  Most of this was done while wearing my Wellies, which seemed like a non-sequitor to me, but what do I know?  

That night he was sooo excited to go to sleep in "his" bedroom.  (We've never had the toys (aka, P's stuff) in the same room as the beds before.   Nor had we labeled the new set-up as such, but apparently this is the child's definition of small person bedroom: bed+ toys = kid's room.)  He slept in the twin that lays beside the queen that night and E and I moved into the same bed (after an almost 6 year hiatus.  Halle-frickin-lujah.) 

The next night he still slept in his bed.

The next night he fell asleep in ours, but happily moved back to his.

The next night, as he lay in his, supposedly drifting off, he suddenly sat back up and announced, "Mama!  I just had the best idea.  Do you want me to tell you?"  Then he described how we could build a wall between his bed and ours, with a hallway that went out to the kitchen, so that he could get up if he needed without bothering us.  He elaborated on the hallway idea for a while and then paused.  Then he added a little hole in this wall, right by where my head is, so that he could still talk to me.  Kinda like the one the subway people sit behind, he said.  Another pause.  Then, noticing we were holding hands, he added a large hole down at the mattress level, so that we could still reach each other.   Separate rooms, with the added bonus of not being separate ;)

He has continued to sleep in his bed, every night.  OMG.  Granted, he sleeps squeezed up against the side of our queen (which is a lovely 6 inches higher than his twin, meaning NO ONE kicks me anymore at night.)  But he stays in his bed.  And can still reach my hand if he needs it to hold.  Its dreamy perfect :)

I can't even begin to express how precious this is, watching him war with the whole notion of growing up.  I'm fascinated to see how long having us in "his own room," is still roomy enough for him...  The days are, so very obviously, numbered, and that's positively palpable these days.