Parenting changes so much from kid 1 to kid 4. Some of that is due to parental maturity and some to laziness. Poor David, we nearly gave ourselves heart attacks trying to keep his 2-year-old body in a twin bed. Jacob had arrived a few months before, so David got booted on up to a bunk bed. Putting him to bed was a nightmare. We did everything Super Nanny said we should, plus a lot of other stuff. Poor little guy. The solution was so simple, but at that point in my parenting career, it never occurred to me. Fifty bucks on Craigslist would have solved everything. Based on that experience, Bryan and Jacob stayed in cribs until they could talk in paragraphs about why it was time for a big boy bed. Unfortunately, the Brothers H crib didn't last until Rand was speaking at that level. It started falling apart. Remembering the experience with David, though, I put it back together with zip ties. Finally, Chris intervened.
Chris: (in that voice you use with crazy people who haven't flipped out yet) I'm concerned for Rand's safety. I think we need to throw away the crib and set up the twin bed for him.
Me: I'll give it a week. If it's interfering with my life, we're buying a crib on Craigslist for our 2 and a half year old 4th and final child.
Chris: (doing a mental expected value problem, a possible cost of $50 vs. a certain fight) Okay.
Rand slept well in his big boy bed for a few weeks. For the past few months, however, he has insisted on going to bed on the floor.
Rand: (tone implies, "I am not to be trifled with.") I sleep floor.
Me: Don't you want to sleep on your bed?
Rand: (tone implies, "You fool.") No, dinosaurs eat me.
Me: Dinosaurs won't eat you in the bed. They live under the bed. They'll eat you if you lay on the floor.
Rand: (tone implies, "You do not want to throw down with me over this.") No, I sleep bed, dinosaurs eat me. I sleep floor.
Me: (internal monologue) That sounds so uncomfortable, but how much do I really care? Let's see if he still sleeps until his normal time in the morning.
He slept normally that night, so now and then I make a feeble attempt to convince him to sleep in his bed, and he unfailingly shoots me down. Tonight he upped the ante. He insisted on sleeping on the floor in a plastic top hat. I figured the hat would work itself out. He eventually decided he could live with clutching the hat instead of wearing it. It was a moral victory.