dressing in the dark

My daughter is at that wonderful age where she wants to do everything herself. She's beginning to be able to do more for herself. She brushes her own teeth (and then I "check" them AKA rebrush them). She helps me cook all the time. She sings her own songs. She tells her babies all kinds of things. She pretends to be a Dora princess or Barbie or "Shortcake." She dresses up in creatively styled outfits, e.g., a sleeveless yellow summer dress with thick blue sweatpants.

Since Kevin has been home, we've made Kady go to sleep in her bed by (grandmothers, please turn away and stop reading now!) herself. We tuck her in, read a book, say prayers, and leave her in her room. It's been traumatic. I couldn't have done it if Kev wasn't home. (I used to sit in her room until she fell asleep.) Kady cried and fought this new step. . .for a few minutes each night. I am starting to think this is not what will emotionally scar her for life. (I've been wrong before, but. . .)

It seems there has been some hanky panky going on after lights out, however. (Not that kind! Get your mind out of the gutters, people!) Anyway, the night before last, we heard Kady making what we thought were wheezing sounds, so we went into check on her. (She was not, in fact, wheezing, just snoring softly.) When we did, we found she had emptied out everything out of one of her dresser drawers and changed out of her pajamas and into the afore-mentioned yellow sundress and blue sweatpants.

Last night, we picked up her room and told her in no uncertain terms that she was NOT to open her drawer and get anything out. All was well last night when we tucked her in. She had several instances of getting out of the bed, but she was immediately escorted back to her bed. (Super Nanny would have been proud.) Shortly after being put to bed (and put back to bed), all was quiet. Well. . .kinda. I soon heard the unmistakable "clink" of her drawer pulls being, well, pulled and then, "Sssshhhhhhh." Trying not to laugh, I whispered to Kevin what we were hearing, and then, together, we heard, "Ssssshhhhhhhhhh." My daughter, the stealth dresser.

This almost beats the time she tried to sneak by us at MooMoo's house, so she closed her eyes. Almost.