After much consideration, listing pros and cons, discussing it, discussing best options, and finally, actually making the time for it, we moved the kids around.
This required much thought on placing three kids, spread over 8 years, into two bedrooms, taking into account developmental stages, upcoming developmental stages, personalities and where the fuck we were going to put everything.
We do have a “fourth” bedroom, which is officially a “formal dining or living area” and currently posing as the “toy room” (or as the younger two of my offspring refer to it “Monkey Boy’s Other Room” as no one else is allowed to put foot in there). It also houses the sofa bed for when we have guests, so they may have a room of their own when they choose to stay.
Godzilla is happy on his own, and most often prefers to be on his own. Monkey Boy and Chippie like company. Anyone’s. So it was a done deal really, and we switched Godzilla’s and Chippie’s beds, and just moved clothes around. We didn’t bother with other furniture. Or most of the clothes, really. I will get around to that … one day ….
Two days after having performed this manoeuvre, I was treated to the 6am screamings of the 3 year old. He had lost one of the three elephants he sleeps with and was traumatised. My concern that his excessively grumpy wakings may affect Monkey Boy, but he appears to have retained the ability to sleep through just about anything, and anywhere, that he was born with. Phew. Tick that niggling concern off my list.
The other upside was the traumatic screechings weren’t quite so screechy from the room further away. The downside was I had to walk – read: stumble in sleep deprived state – further to locate missing elephant.
Chippie seems to be sleeping better, Monkey Boy isn’t phased, Godzilla is happy and it all seemed to be working well.
Except I hadn’t accounted for the main reason we “separated” Monkey Boy and Godzilla. No, nothing to do with sibling rivalry. More Monkey Boys severe aversion to being woken before he likes to (there is a limit to his “sleeping through anything”) and Godzilla’s severe lack of ability to appreciate that some of his actions affect others.
Aside from him being genuinely happy and cheery pre-7am (weird, I know!) he also leaps out of bed, flicks on the overhead light, dances across the floor-boarded hall (thump, thump, thump), often accompanied by loud singing, flicks the bathroom light on, still dancing and singing, wees, washes his hands, still singing, dances back and jumps on the bed.
Then says “What?” quite innocently when you yell his name 36 times (he can’t hear over the thumping and singing) and tell him to SHUT UP!
We figured, being in his own room, he could turn his light on and not bother anyone. He could thump down the hall, and do his bathroom business, thump back and jump on his bed, the room still in full lumination, and not bother anyone. Ish.
No. Apparently, our bathroom is closer. So he makes his way into our room from across the hall, dances past our bed, bangs the ensuite door open, flicks the light on before banging the door closed, sings while he piddles, and dances back to his own room, leaving the light on and door open.
Personally, I think I prefer the devastated screaming and crying of the pre-schooler with a