When Ollie was a young toddler, he would often lounge in his crib. Unlike Ethan and Lucas, when Ollie would wake up in the morning or from a nap, he would often be content to hang out in his crib. Ethan wanted out of that crib as soon as possible. He would scream at us, and he learned how to climb out of that crib, something Ollie didn't learn how to do.
Lucas likes his crib more than Ethan, but he doesn't want to miss out on stuff, so he reaches up for us to get him out of the crib. He doesn't seem to mind it that much if I put enough toys and books in his crib.
Some weekend morning Diana and I would wake up to the sound of Ollie talking to himself in his crib. He would sound like he was having a casual conversation with himself, asking himself questions and responding. Of course, as a toddler, sometimes we had no idea what he was talking about. Regardless, his high soft voice softly imitating the contours of conversations is one of my favorite sounds in my life to wake up to.
After a hard day at work, sometimes I would rush home. If I got home early enough, I knew I could be there when Ollie woke up from his afternoon nap. I would enter his room to find him half-awake or lying in his bed talking to himself. He would sit up as soon I walked into his, excited to see me.
Exhausted, I would climb up into Ollie's crib and lie down, and he would snuggle on top of me. This was all I needed after the hard days to leave work behind and find myself in the snuggles of my Ollie-bear.
Ollie thought it was so fun when I would be in his crib with him. Sometimes I would put the blanket over the crib's sides to create a tent, and he would giggle, poking at the fabric while sitting on top of me.
In my memory, the afternoons we played in his crib, it was always sunny, and Ollie was always happy in his crib. But I'm sure that when we played when the weather was not good, and I know there were tears in that crib as Ollie struggled to get to sleep or would wake up sick, unsure of the new painful sensation of a fever or a cough.
I tried with Ethan, but he didn't seem to enjoy it when I got in his crib with him. This, combined with the ridiculousness of me going into the crib and the obvious safety issues with a grown man climbing in and laying in a crib, put an end to this.
I asked Ollie if he remembered me climbing into this crib when he was younger, and he said he didn't. Part of me was a little sad that these beautiful memories I have with and not with Ollie. It's interesting to think about how memories we have with our children when they are young are our own. In these memories, we hold something for our children, a gift they have given us that they cannot remember.
The sadness quickly passed as I pulled Ollie close, cuddling with him in his twin-sized bed. Will he remember this moment? Maybe, Maybe not. Either it's okay.
I will.
Lucas likes his crib more than Ethan, but he doesn't want to miss out on stuff, so he reaches up for us to get him out of the crib. He doesn't seem to mind it that much if I put enough toys and books in his crib.
Some weekend morning Diana and I would wake up to the sound of Ollie talking to himself in his crib. He would sound like he was having a casual conversation with himself, asking himself questions and responding. Of course, as a toddler, sometimes we had no idea what he was talking about. Regardless, his high soft voice softly imitating the contours of conversations is one of my favorite sounds in my life to wake up to.
After a hard day at work, sometimes I would rush home. If I got home early enough, I knew I could be there when Ollie woke up from his afternoon nap. I would enter his room to find him half-awake or lying in his bed talking to himself. He would sit up as soon I walked into his, excited to see me.
Exhausted, I would climb up into Ollie's crib and lie down, and he would snuggle on top of me. This was all I needed after the hard days to leave work behind and find myself in the snuggles of my Ollie-bear.
Ollie thought it was so fun when I would be in his crib with him. Sometimes I would put the blanket over the crib's sides to create a tent, and he would giggle, poking at the fabric while sitting on top of me.
In my memory, the afternoons we played in his crib, it was always sunny, and Ollie was always happy in his crib. But I'm sure that when we played when the weather was not good, and I know there were tears in that crib as Ollie struggled to get to sleep or would wake up sick, unsure of the new painful sensation of a fever or a cough.
I tried with Ethan, but he didn't seem to enjoy it when I got in his crib with him. This, combined with the ridiculousness of me going into the crib and the obvious safety issues with a grown man climbing in and laying in a crib, put an end to this.
I asked Ollie if he remembered me climbing into this crib when he was younger, and he said he didn't. Part of me was a little sad that these beautiful memories I have with and not with Ollie. It's interesting to think about how memories we have with our children when they are young are our own. In these memories, we hold something for our children, a gift they have given us that they cannot remember.
The sadness quickly passed as I pulled Ollie close, cuddling with him in his twin-sized bed. Will he remember this moment? Maybe, Maybe not. Either it's okay.
I will.
I have to say that I'm proud to know you
And I'll never be the same because we met
You might not miss this. I will.
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