Overnight my sweet pumpkin boy has turned into toddler dictator with a vengeance. He’s got a mind of his own and by God you will bow to his will!
We are still fighting to tame the sleep dragon and hoepfully moving him into his own room this past weekend was a step in the right direction. He’s a good napper, but not so much at night.
Until this last week. Suddenly he is practically screaming ‘off with your head!’ when I dare to bring him to the crib for a quick nap.
All the while he is rubbing his eyes and his head is too heavy for his neck. (Honestly his cheeks have got to weigh two pounds each, those bad boys are plump. And delicious.)
As I carried him down on Friday he began screaming, loudly and clearly:
But in some sort of vicious death metal screaming growl. It was terrifying and impressive all at the same time.
What sort of crazy a$$ Sesame Street has he been sneaking behind my back?
Despite his protestations, the second his future death metal head hit his uber cute antique truck sheets he was out like the proverbial light and he woke up singing a much sweeter version of the same song.
So, the cure for death metal is clearly more naps.