Parenting Fail

Last weekend we decided to embark on that gloroious milestone that is switching one's toddler from a crib to a regular bed. I know, the things that pass for excitement these days. I didn't even get a free trip to IKEA out of this one, as our crib just converts to a regular bed...maybe that should have been my first sign this wasn't such a good idea...

Anyway, the first night - of course a Sunday, who doesn't do these things right on the cusp of a busy work week? - we put Anthony to sleep in his new quarters, crossed our fingers and returned downstairs so Brandon could read Twilight and I could finish watching the past week's Jersey Shore.

What?

Anyway, after a few trips upstairs to remind Anthony of the meaning of "night night time," we were rewarded with an extended period of silence. We tiptoed upstairs, ready to settle in for a nice restful night, quite certain our hearts were about to be warmed by this...

...only to instead encounter this chilling sight:

Instead of succumbing to sleep, Anthony had decided to waltz into our bedroom and take up residence in our bed, where he was quite contendedly thumbing through books and sipping his water. It was kind of like the scene in The Godfather where the guy wakes up and finds the horse head in his bed, only with less blood. And at least that guy didn't have to turn around and try to get the horse head to fall asleep, so really a lot worse.

Anyway, we soldiered on, once again extolling the virtues of the new bed as Monday's nighttime rolled around. After settling Anthony in, we again returned downstairs, this time finding ourselves rewarded with nary a peep from upstairs. After a couple rounds of high-fives and fist pumps - plus the requisite vampire fiction reading and reality TV watching - we skipped upstairs to peek in on our perfect child.

This time, we found this:

Which would have been great, only he wasn't in his bed, he was on the guest bed. You know, the one I may or may not like to catch a few ZZZ's on when Brandon's featherlight breathing makes it hard for me to sleep. The best part of it was, he must have made three or four trips over to that bed, because he had everything from his crib - we're talking four blankies, several stuffed animals, a couple books, a Hot Wheels car and some water - right along with him.

In retrospect, it was kind of cute.

Ok, it was cute even in the moment.

Anyway, Tuesday night brought continued perseverence (we don't learn, do we?), and another stab at the New Night-Night. After a multitude of trips upstairs - dude, how are we supposed to concentrate on Team Edward and Snooki with all that racket??? - 8:30 p.m. found Brandon and I mumbling curse words under our breath as we hastily returned the crib to its natural state, Anthony looking on all the while with something that can only be described as ill-concealed glee.

Yes, we're back to this:

Our experiment has failed, and we have seen the error of our ways. I am suspecting there is a line forming to tell us "I told you so..."

But, if it means fewer nighttimes of this:

...and a more of this:

...it will all be worth it.

Otherwise, he'll just have to take the crib along on his honeymoon.