Run Fox Run

Knocking wood, crossing my fingers, and waving a clove of garlic, let me say this in a whisper so as not to jinx myself and anger the toddler-sleep Olympians. Leda has moved into her new room, complete with big-girl twin size bed. She slept through last night beautifully, even with the disruptive influence of the time change — somehow we were able to convince her that 4 am was not, in fact, time to wake up. She is not normally receptive to what her parents think of as reason, so we were very proud. Also relieved.

Toby has been painting and assembling Ikea bookcases late at night for the last two months, and my mom and I enjoyed picking out sundry linens. Leda chose her Hello Kitty sheets herself; she has a thing for kitty cats. She helped us move her clothes, books, and toys into her new room, and made a sign for the door, dictating the names of the friends who would visit her. We still have some things to put up on the walls, but she does not seem bothered by the somewhat spartan aesthetic. (Perhaps this is Uncle Sable’s influence.) Tonight, for the second night, she climbed into bed after several stories and asked for her “violins” music. Was it only two years ago she could only sleep 90 minutes at a time, and then only after serious coercion?

And it begins.