Saturday, June 14, 2008


Zane's sleep habits resemble a bear in hibernation.

Regardless of the temperature, and here in Chicago it's finally hot after skipping Spring and entering Summer right on the tail end of Winter, Zane can be found in fleece pajama's, wrapped up tightly in fleece blankets, with his head nestled in the corner of the crib, up against the slats, womb like.

His blankets of choice are always Melody's superman cuddle (folded into a rectangle and used as a pillow), Michelle's creation (truck side up please) as the "cave", and two blue square blankets received at birth (one as a gift and a duplicate found on Ebay) which flank his head.

It's quite an elaborate setup of fabric.

He NEVER sleeps at the head of the crib, and thus underneath the attic door which may or may not, in his mind, contain owls, preferring the foot of the bed as the place to make camp for the night.

Zane is still in a crib by choice. Sure, he's three, almost 3 and a half, and we've had discussion about moving Harper's bed into his room (and getting her a loft), and redoing his baby cowboy themed room (and to think I chose this theme before the release of Brokeback Mountain which came out (ha) the year he was born . . . ) into a Superfriends Hall of Justice. And yet, there doesn't seem to be any reason why we need to do this.

He doesn't climb out of his crib.

He feels incredibly safe in his crib.

He isn't dry in the morning, warranting the need to get out of his bed in the middle of the night to hit the head.

He hasn't outgrown his crib.

My cub sleeps just fine, cozy and sound in his pen.

He has always been an incredible dozer. In bed by 8:00, and by the looks of this morning, up by, well, hopefully 9:00 am.

There he is, wearing fleece pajama's (which on some days he decides to change into at nap time, as he just loves his pj's so), burrowed under his cave of fleece blankets, zonked. Out. Dreamland.

There are days when we have to wake him. On some days, he'll roll over and look at us and just say, "I don't want to come out yet." He'll then take another 20 minutes to look at books or draw on his magnadoodle while audibly muttering stories to himself.

And then there's Thursday. Upon waking him from his nap so that we could head to the pool, he rolled over, shot a finger in the air and proclaimed, "A butterfly comes from a cocoon and was once a caterpillar!" What a beautiful dream he had apparently just had. The proclamation continued with, "Harper should have Egypt books."

These dreams completely trump the one's he has in the past which have included lions roaming the house (I saved Zane by putting him in the car and driving away) and the presence of those pesky owls in the attic.

Glad to know my slumbering cub is having pleasant dreams.

And while we do plan on taking this summer to reinvent his baby room, it's a little bittersweet. For with pottytraining almost complete, sippy cups gone, stroller's put away, and the remainder of all things "baby" being handed off to friends who are just about to begin their chapter as parents, disassembling the crib and moving to a real bed seems to be the last step in Zane's graduation to big boy.

Could it really be time for my little man to leave the cocoon of babydom?

For, in my mind, he will always be my cuddly bear cub withstanding sweat from an overabundance of fleece, facing lions, and outsmarting owls while he slumbers under the stars on the ceiling.

Some may say, "You can't take it with you", however, I'm quite positive that as my Zane soars upon those newly sprouted wings of his, they will also be carrying a load of four, very loved, fleece blankets.

Pleasant dreams my snuggly big boy.

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