Jack has come so far this winter — he’s just a different kid than he was last summer. He’s still sweet and loving, but now he has so much more to say. And he continues to be very, very literal about everything.
We still struggle with keeping him in his own bed every night. I think he just wakes up and his instinct is to come to us. About half the time we walk him back to his room, and the other half of the time he gets in our bed and falls right back asleep, without us even noticing.
This morning when I left to go run, he was in his own room. But when I got back, he was asleep in our bed, with Philip.
So I asked about it.
Me: How did you end up in our bed this morning?
(He seriously looked at me like, um, OK, idiot, if you don’t know how to get to your room from my room, I’m not sure I can help you, but here goes.)
Jack: Well, I got up out of my bed, went in the hallway and then went potty. Then I came into your room and climbed into the bed and went to sleep.
(I mean, come on, lady.)
Me: Why don’t you stay in your own bed?
Jack: I’m four. I’ll sleep in my own bed when I’m 8.
That’s his other thing lately: He has lots of plans for different ages. Yesterday he told us that when he’s 60 (I think he meant 16), he was going to build a Camaro with his friend from daycare, and they were going to paint it red and yellow and it was going to go really fast. OK, buddy.