If we ever, for some reason, need to prove that the Potato is a prince, we’re not going to be able to have him sleep on 20 mattresses on top of a pea. Because the Potato routinely sleeps with more toys, books, and other sundry things in his bed than, well, bedding. Here is a short list of things I’ve found in his bed when I’ve gone to check on him before hitting the hay myself:
- a library full of books (like 10 to 12 at a time)
- 15 or 18 stuffed animals
- all of his trains, with half of the train tracks set up on his mattress
- eleventy billion plastic dinosaurs
- enough Matchbox cars to complete the Indianapolis 500
and last, but definitely not least
- a blue plastic chair
Most nights when I go in to give him that last good-night kiss, he’s curled up at the end of the bed, where he collapsed after his last moments of play for the day. Sometimes he’s turned his light back on, and he’s sleeping under its blaze.
There are occasional nights when he’s so tired that he actually sleeps on his pillow, but mostly he’s up after we’ve put him to bed, potatoing around in his room. (Potatoing is a variant of bumbling, which is what we call it when the Bee putters around in her room.)
The Potato is an active kid and his energy is endless, right up to the time it’s not. I love that he’s able to be independent and that he can amuse himself alone in his room. I know that it’ll only be a matter of time before he no longer has train track marks on his cheek as a result of it.