We're still not sure when we'll fully transition Lyla from the nursery into her new room, now adorned with wall decals that I initially thought Julie was crazy for buying, a position I now fully retract. Probably we'll give it a week or two, maybe let her sleep in the playpen in the new room to get used to it, something like that.
For now, it's still the crib.
In other news, on Friday when we ate out, Lyla met eight or nine little friends on the ramps and stairs in the building's atrium.
They were all older, cousins and siblings probably, plus Lyla tagging along. "Big kids!" she shrieked and sprinted after them. I tried to help her up the stairs so she could catch up with them and run down the ramp and she said, "No, Dada!" and shoved me back. Twenty years of cramping my daughter's style started at that instant.
My reaction to watching them all goof around together surprised me: I wanted to sob. The world is such a cruel place and she has no idea. She thinks it's just about seeing some random group of kids and joining in; she's never been rejected, never been bullied, never had her heart shattered. She's totally innocent. And it won't last.
Toddlers should run the world.
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