Sorry, No Campfires in the Bedroom

We sold the crib last night.

When the nice gentleman came to pick it up, my husband and I helped him load it into his minivan, and then wished him well as he drove away.

Then, we stood there. In the middle of the driveway. Neither one of us sure what to feel, or what to say. I guess that's that. We finally meandered into the house, both of us lost in thought. It was the end of an era.

Last night was our first cribless night in almost twelve years.

The actual change-over of our "baby" to the toddler bed hasn't happened yet. For the last two weeks, he has been sleeping in a pack-n-play next to our bed so we could monitor his allergic reactions to an unknown antagonist.

But since he has been doing reasonably better with fewer attacks, we've decided tonight is the night.

We're having a camp out in his room. All five of us.

Can we roast the white things over the fire on the stick things that are very long?

No, honey. We can't have a campfire in the house. But we'll think of something else.

There are cots scattered 'round, a fiber optic glow light on the chest, a host of fun picture books for us to share, and chocolate cake in our tummies. Not sure that was a good idea. But it seemed we needed the cake to celebrate the moment.

We'll probably be up for hours yet. There will be giggling, and tickling, and as sure as I live and breath (unfortunately) there will be passing of gas.

But I'll not let this moment slip by uncelebrated just because Mommy is having a sentimental breakdown, or second thoughts about having served turkey for dinner before our family slumber party.

Nope. We're doing it up and having some fun. After I find my box of tissues (for when the lights go out) we're starting our party!