Knock, Knock

After the kids were all snugged in their beds I went about my nightly routine of cleaning up downstairs and ending with a nice relaxing shower before settling in for some mindless TV and blogging.  This evening had a slight hitch in the routine.  As I was showering I heard a knock...somewhere close.  I did a mental checklist.  Kids in bed?  Check.  Doors locked downstairs?  Check.  Brett at work.  Check.  Knock.  Who is knocking? I get out of the shower.  Knock.  Wait?  Why is that coming from the closet?  Oh, because Emmett still sleeps in our extra roomy (EXTRA ROOMY...as in the size of our old bedroom...put down the phone to CPS) closet and is not sleeping, he is out of his bed knocking on the door.  I open the door and there he is, binky in, blankie in hand, waving.  His face reads, "What, did you want me to be in my bed?"  I scold him with a firm, "No Emmett."  Pick him up, put him in his bed.  One minute later, knock.  He is out again.  Hmmm, how to solve this issue.  We tried having him sharing a room with Brooklyn but not only did he party way past his bedtime but he would wake up in the wee hours of the morning and share his wake time with everyone else in the house.  Ugh.  He left me no choice after the fifth breakout from his bed.  I took him in to Brooklyn's room where they partied for an hour and a half before passing out.  I guess I can't complain since he finally did go to sleep.

He is 17 months old and climbing out of bed already.  Lucky us.  He loved his nest, i.e. former bed.  We just commented on how cute he was all snuggled up in his bed.  When you would lay him down he would circle his cute little feet, snug his blankie and close his eyes.  Pure comfort.  Now he hates it.  Now he wants to be free, knocking on doors an hour past his bedtime.  But, man, he was so cute waving at me each time I'd open the door.  I have a feeling those blue eyes and dimple will be getting him out of lots of trouble.