Oh, to be two...

As we age, our priorities change.

Relationships. Careers. Faith. Any number of things impact the things that we do, and the importance that we attach to any particular item.

I don't remember events from when I was two years old. I have no conscious memories of people or things. I'm fairly certain, though, that all kinds of things happened to me, around me, and because of me when I was two.

By now, you know of the Hernandez household sleeping habits. I don't know of the common-ness, or uncommon-ness of two year olds wandering around in the middle of the night, and ending up in their parents bed, but I would expect, because of the nature of two-year-olds, that ours is not too uncommon an experience. So, what are you blathering on about, man, just get to whatever it is you have to say! Fine.

Last night Theresa transferred the boys from our bed to their cribs as she and I got ready for bed. I was finishing up on something on the computer when Grayson wandered in. I tried to rock him for a bit and put him back in his crib, which he would have none of, so he joined us in bed right off the bat.

Theresa is a lighter sleeper than I, and for some reason, the boys' movements and flailing and general thrashing about tend to wake her. I sleep through much of it. So I put Grayson down beside me, opposite the side where Theresa lay. And we all drifted off to sleep. (I may be fuzzy on the order of this stuff, but rest assured, it all happened.)

Then Grayson fell out of bed. We have a king-sized bed, double pillow-topped mattress, which upper surface is precisely 27 inches above a hardwood floor. And his head fell between the steel rail frame and the solid oak end table with raised moulding and corners for additional damage potential. Which makes it all the more surprising that all I had to do was pick him up, say "that's okay", kiss him on the head, and he drifted right off back to sleep!

Noah joined us at some point, which woke Grayson up, which woke me up. Naturally, Theresa was already awake. Everyone settled down, and drifted back off. Then someone lost their "paci". (The only time they use these now is when they go to sleep at home. They don't use them at school nap-time, nor any other time. We started to ween them, then I started this current program, and my traveling interrupted their schedule. I'm going to try to terminate their use with the upcoming completion of this program at the end of the week.) I had to track it down for him. As I looked, I noticed that Theresa was missing. Theresa had already apparently had enough, and headed to the couch downstairs looking for greener pastures.

Paci found, all was well again. The next time I awoke, my arm was entangled in Grayson's legs as if we were making a human basket. I'm not quite sure how we did this, but it did prove to be an impediment to my sleep.

Shortly, Noah was calling for his paci. I rummaged around, finding it on the floor and stuffing it back in his mouth.

Behavior of this sort continued, more or less, throughout the night. Now I have a better understanding of why Theresa surrenders the bed to the kids, and looks for slumber elsewhere.

For those of you that know that we have a guest room, and are wondering why Theresa just doesn't go in there and lie down (come on... do I really have to tell you why?) As I'm sure is true of most guest rooms, when our guest room is not being occupied by a guest, the bed becomes yet another flat surface for storage of items that should have been thrown out long ago.

The only rather amazing part of the evening was that Mattea ended up sleeping in her own bed the entire night.

So, what does all of this have to to with priorities? Nothing. I just know how much you enjoy hearing of our night-time experiences.

I actually do, though, have an observation regarding things important to the boys right now.

Both boys have been working very hard on their potty training. They have progressed to the point where they wear underwear during the day (except at nap time), and have reduced accidents to the exception, rather than the rule. And many mornings, they wake up dry as well.

Two years old is a time of curiousity, wonderment and experimentation, and being the curious types, the brothers want to watch each other as they use the facilities. Two years old is also a time of possesion obsession. This can lead to never imagined scenarios.

On Saturday, Grayson told me that he had to go poop. I was grateful for this, as the prospect of him not telling me, and going anyway, is a less than pleasant alternative. So off we went, with Noah not far behind.

The boys toilet habits are a bit unorthodox. They must strip from the waist down to properly prepare. Once this has been accomplished, they step up onto the toilet seat, and walk around until they face front and lower themselves into a straddling position atop the seat. Although this may not be how you or I would approach the situation, it seems to work reasonably well for them. As might be expected, they both "saddle up" this way. (I would imagine that one learned it from the other, but I don't know which one did it first.)

So Grayson is comfortably arranged, and tends to business. Upon completion, Noah has somehow worked his way around me, and is approaching the toilet. Grayson sees what Noah is headed for, and apparently, based on prior experience yells "Don't flush my poop!"