Good Night, Chickadees

For a little over a month now, Esmé has been sleeping in a "big girl bed." In this case, a toddler bed that's perfectly sized so she can climb in and out with ease. Also, the potty training seems to be paying off, finally. For the last four days she's been in underwear (excepting naps and bedtime) and virtually accident free. I've been looking into preschools. She's been insisting she's a "big girl" and so over her high chair. I'm expecting eye rolls any day now.

What a long strange trip it's been. From a newborn who needed everything from me, to this emerging little person who grows more independent by the day-- we're so lucky to have a child who has always handled transition well. In fact, the only sign that Esmé was feeling a little nostalgic for the good 'ole days of sleeping in her crib was that she wanted us to resume an old bedtime ritual she had previously abandoned. Since we had been putting her to bed in her own room we've always said "good night" to the bird pictures decorating the walls: ten in all, from robins to chickadees. By the time she was talking she was joining in with us. So we were a bit saddened the night, a few months ago, when she announced that she didn't want to say "good night to the birds" anymore. And we were equally pleased (and a little touched) the night she asked to do it again. That was her first night in her big girl bed. And we've been saying "good night" again to our feathered friends ever since.

Being on the cusp of what will likely be Esmé's biggest transition has me wondering, and worrying a little, about exactly how she's going to handle everything. I've no doubt it will all, in the end, be fine. But I do hope, as with the birds, she's able to show us when she needs the reassurance of the tried and true and familiar. I'll be more than happy to oblige, even with another on the way, I'm not ready to let go of my baby just yet either.