We change his bum, put on all his creams (eczema issues), snuggle into a sleeper, grab a soother from the shelf and tuck him into his big boy bed. We kiss him goodnight and walk out of the room, closing the door behind us. Then we settle in for 30 - 60 minutes of him laughing, talking, 'reading' his books in the dark, or to his totally Type A mother's absolute delight, re-arranging of the dresser drawer contents.
Since the arrival of the Browner, there's been a new distraction added to his room... his inflatable play fort from Grandpa, which previously resided in the living room. The result is this:
Yup, poor kid crashed right in the middle of a meeting with his stuffed animal friends. Must have been some BORING flow charts.
