So, Wesley has always gone to bed with a bottle of water. We decided it was time to end his attachment to his beloved bottle (is it wrong that part of my objection is that he has always refused to upgrade to the sippy cup?), especially because he is getting closer and closer to being housebroken and we figured that cutting out that last cup of water would help.
Conor talked to him about it today. Wesley agreed that he was a big kid and he didn’t need a bottle anymore. So when bedtime rolled around, I reminded him of this, and he said, “Okay.”
While I was reading stories, Wesley snuggled his bottle and petted it like it was a little dog. When we finished reading, he took it to the hallway and “tucked it in” under a towel. (Yes. It was the most pathetic thing I’ve ever seen.) I put Wesley into the crib* and tucked him in. Then he popped up again, peered over the end of the crib into the hallway and said, “Can I just see my bottle?”
He had a look at the bottle, all tucked in, and then we tucked HIM back in, and he said, “I’m okay, Mama.” I said good night and came downstairs, and he’s jabbering and talking. I can hear him over the monitor, talking about all kinds of things–but every few minutes he keeps coming back to “I’m okay. I’m fine.” Just now, I heard him say to his little toy train, “It’s okay, Thomas. I’m fine. We’re okay.”
* Yes, I know–just now taking away his bottle; still sleeps in a crib. These really are by HIS choice, not because I have some twisted desire to keep him a baby forever. He tried the big-kid bed on the floor a few times but he didn’t seem to like it. And the sippy cup made him sink to the floor and weep great big Wesley tears.