Ghost baby: or how I am not the Boss


I slowly and extremely carefully walked upstairs, hesitating on the landing before the last few steps. I shuddered at the thought of what I’d see there. I knew it was there. I could feel its presence. Oh how I wished it wasn’t there. I squinted in the dark…

Inwardly steeling my soul and locking all of my emotions (of which there are too many to number appropriately) into the vault, I made eye contact with the ghost baby at the top of the stairs.

She stood motionless, two baby dolls clutched under one arm. The other held a blanket puddled on the floor. Teartracks on one cheek and the quivering intake of someone trying to hold back a whimper. Or a sob. Or something.

Oh ghost baby dear…. You need to go back to bed, sweet thing. I walked her back to her bed and tucked her up. As soon as the door closed, the wailing stopped and I back off, I closed my own door and hoped for the best, or worst. Either one of those things.

And it was both. I woke up at 5:17 am when my alarm went off. I hit snooze as I always do. (Which is the best thing ever)Getting out of bed to go to the gym first thing is always hard. (Which is the worst)

But then there was a teeny little cough. An ‘I have the black lung’ type of cough. And then I noticed shadows and debris. Eleanor lay facedown on the carpet next to our master bed. Her baby dolls surrounding her like symbols in a crop circle. Oh, so despite it already being the worst, it was still actually the worst. Ever.

Let’s review why I thought it was a good idea to transition Eleanor to a toddler bed again?

In this fast-paced world, decisions are made are made on the spot. In the heat of the moment. And most of the time, based off of things that seemed extremely logical.

And I think, in the previous sentence, the key phrase is ‘most of the time’.

For the last few weeks, we have had some crappy bedtimes with The Boss. Over the weekend, she spent rather a lot of time moving her Mickey Mouse books from her room, to her brothers bed. She snuggled herself up in his blankets and read to herself like the Swedish Chef on The Muppets.

I took this as a shining star from heaven above!

Oh! This is a sign! A sign Eleanor is ready for her own cosy, snugly bed slash reading spot!

So I totally spur of the moment decided that she was ready to convert to a big girl bed. I unscrewed the front of her crib (a convertible crib we bought years ago when V was born), and slid in an old guard rail. I hustled the kids in the car and tore off to pick up a toddler bed bedding bundle I’d seen on sale earlier in the day. Eleanor screamed with delight at seeing Minnie Mouse and hugged the package all the way to check out.

We flew home and literally everyone galavanted upstairs where we decorated the new bed with the help of several little singing birds and some fairies. Ribbons flew in the air, pillows were fluffed and several little mice tugged the sheets into place and straightened the quilt.

It was perfect.

She loved it for 2 minutes.

Did I mention that I have a fickle boss?

And Tuesday would make it precisely two days. Two whole days before we literally could not take it for another single second of our adult parental lives. The toddler bed is no more. It’s straight up criblife up in the hizzouse.

Last night I had the best sleep of my life. It literally was better than the sandwich I ate after giving birth to Eleanor. It was like the wedding night of sleep.

God bless common sense.