oh how our lives change overnight

One day last week Clark woke from his nap as he always does and he called for me. Mommy! Mommy! MOMMY!!!! When I got up to his room he was relaxing in his armchair, the reading light on. Instead of in his crib.

Hi Clark, I said.

I get down. Down from bed, he said. (I love that he uses first person rather than referring to himself as Clarky now...)

I see that. And you didn't fall.

No. Hold on railing. Hand. 

Bedtime that night was the first diddy in the musical that is to comprise, with certainty, our evenings for a good while. 

First he climbed out of the crib, turned on the light, gathered books from his bookshelf, climbed up the changing table, and threw them one by one over the table. Then he made a nest for himself on the backside of the changing table and hung there a while. At one point I had to rescue his foot from the crib rungs as he tried to climb back in to get his blankie. It took him longer than I expected to figure out he could leave the room. And then he was on the stairs saying, "Come downstairs!" with no little bit of wonder.

So we've been spending our evenings putting him back in bed. And then doing it again. And again. Then sitting outside his door or even in his room until he finally gives in and lies down. This is time I used to spend doing dishes, or blogging, or watching mindless tv, or having an actual conversation with my husband. Sometimes we just give in and let him stay up with us. It's a good thing he's so cute.