The Supernanny made me cry last night. I love her. Of course, I'd rather drive to the middle of Ohio than watch a second hour of someone else's misbehaving kids, but now and then I like to zombie out to that show. It's taught me a thing or two.

I yelled once today, at Lloyd.

Lloyd lost his crib to a growing Dallas two months ago. When Dallas lifted the bottom out of the fold-up crib I knew there'd be no going back. That's when Lloyd got the big bed.

Both boys transitioned very well. The problem is there is nothing keeping Lloyd in his bed for naps. I tried the threat and use of the wooden spoon, lolly-pop bribes, yelling, accompanying him, Aaron's authority, the lighthearteded mention of it being a "little nap," singing, and praying. He's outgrown a daily nap, but there are some days he obviously needs one, so I try. Like today. And yelling has worked in the past, but can you see me out in public HAVING to yell to be heard! Can't happen.

The Supernanny would calmly keep putting him back in bed. I removed the heater to avoid disciplining him over playing with the cords. I removed many untouchables. He talks too much at bedtime and has pulled the getting out of bed bit, to which I removed all light. I believe he likes pitch black. It works.

Daytime, however, he struts down the steps afterwhile saying he's done taking a nap. What's the difference between two minutes and two hours to a two year-old! (Besides my yelling.)

I hear him up there now, talking and playing. I'm typing instead of taking away his pillow, blankets, and water as promised. I'll be right back. My final plea...

Awwww. I didn't have the heart to take his black bear and sock monkey and doggy and Sponge Bob. On my way out I heard, "you need these, mama? You need
these?" And floppy things hit the floor.