Either write something worth reading or do something worth writing—Benjamin Franklin

The story of how Little got a big boy bed:

It all started one morning when I woke up to Little screeching at the top of his lungs. I of course jumped out of bed to see if he was indeed dying and found him yet again stuck inside his bed. He for some reason enjoys sleeping with his legs squeezed in between the slats of his bed and no matter how much I try to discourage it, he always does it. And he always gets stuck. This time however, was a whole different category of stuck. I pulled out all the tricks in my arsenal: butter, oil, vasoline.... to no avail. He had twisted it around so much that his knee was swollen and bruised and there was no way it was coming out. Meanwhile, my child is still screaming non-stop like the world is ending and I shudder to think what the neighbors thought was going on. Finally, I got out the screwdriver to loosen the railing enough to pry him out, at least that is what I thought. In reality, I ended up having to spend the morning taking apart the entire bed just to get his poor little leg out. 
After we were done and his leg was fully extricated, I looked at the demolished bed and thought, "Might as well finish the job." And thus our Little is now out of a crib and into a toddler bed, whether he/I was ready for it or not. 
In all honesty, it took a few days for it to be official because the instructions on the thing were so complicated that I had to wait for Bryce to put it together properly, but after having it fall on top of me a couple of times so that my bruises rivaled Little's, I was done. Little slept with me for a few nights until Bryce made it home to fix it. I think my message to him that afternoon when something like this: 
  "Ummm...  Honey, I may or may not have killed Little's bed... but at 
  least he isn't inside of it anymore."

Little did his best to help, and this time he really was helpful. He held tools and kept track of all the screws. (Please to be noting the "entreprenuer" shirt of Bryce's that we remade into pjs for Little. I was dying laughing that he just so happened to be wearing those while helping me with the impossible bed.) I'm not sure that he will be staying in a big boy bed as getting a knock on my door at 11:30 pm, or 5:30 am is not always my favorite thing, but we'll see. 

Good times in nursery

I found a little sticky note sitting in my scriptures and I laughed out loud remembering. I was called to work in nursery a while back and one day during coloring time, the kids started having a conversation about Heavenly Father and what good things He wanted them to do. There were plenty of little nuggets of wisdom shared, but the best were easily these two:
"Heavenly Father said we should color when we camp."
"Heavenly Father said we should not eat other people."
Try responding to that with a straight face. Seriously. 

In other nursery news... Little refers to most kids his age as "baby friends," so it is fairly common for us to bribe him to church with promises of getting to play with his "baby friends." However, the other Sunday, he woke up asking to see his "mommy friend." It took us a bit to figure out who exactly that was, but when the dots were all connected we found out that he was talking about his nursery teacher.
I am so glad that he loves nursery so much, and church things in general. He loves scripture time, he is usually the one to remind me to pray before we eat meals, and he is so so good about prayers in general.

Our nighttime prayers have become quite an event lately because everyone must be included. Pirates, animals, monsters, you name it... Everything in sight is gathered around. After Little gathers them together, he is very meticulous about their positions and makes sure that everyone is sitting up and facing forward--which is sometimes problematic for the tiny stuffed animals who don't sit up well, but he solves that by putting them either in my lap or his own--and once everyone is situated properly (this can take up to 10 minutes), he tells them all "fold arms everyone!" and then I know we're good to start saying prayers. 

The best part of praying with Little though is that he will sometimes say the prayers along with me. You can barely hear him, but as I am saying the words, he whisper-mumbles along with me in his sing-song voice. I am almost positive that there is nothing more adorable in this world.

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