Preschool Psychotherapist

Happy Fatherhood Friday, everyone!

Big Brother, The Psychiatrist is IN.

And in case you still need more therapy after reading this post, check out the other great bloggers over at dad-blogs.com.




As I've recently chronicled, we've struggled to transition Little Brother to his toddler bed.

We first thought that the novelty of having a roommate whom he adores would make for an easy transition...

We thought wrong.

We then thought that tough love was the answer...

It wasn't (only worked for a little while).

Apparently, third time's a charm (aka hits you over the head like a ton of bricks): We put Big Brother in charge.

We have bath taking, tooth brushing, bladder evacuating, story reading, prayer saying, and goodnight kissing.

Then we leave. Big Brother was instructed to just "talk to Little Brother."

(To clarify, we further explained to him that Little Brother was a little scared about being in a new room and bed, and just needed reassurance. We also emphasized that it was a special time for the two of them to talk.)

Big Brother took the ball and ran with it. Granted, it's taken a few days to adjust to the new routine.

The first night, Little Brother partially climbed into bed with Big Brother, but ended up falling asleep in the precarious position below:


After that, it's been all downhill. Big Brother has become a therapist of sorts for Little Brother, a la Lucy from Peanuts.

Just tonight, 5 minutes after an utter screaming fit from BOTH boys for DIFFERENT reasons (Big Brother was hungry after picking at dinner and Little Brother didn't want me to leave him), they were lying in their beds chatting away.

The discussion is hysterical. We're lucky not to wake them up while we easvesdrop outside their door.

"Now, Little Brother, when you're a big boy you can't pee or poop in your pants."

"Yeah. I want to be a big boy."

"If you pee your pants, you need to change your clothes."

"I need to change my clothes."

Insert long pause. Little Brother finally breaks the silence.

"Where's my Dad-E? Is he helping Mom-E?"

"ZZZzzz..."

"Where's Dad-E?"

"ZZZzzz..."

Next thing you know, they're both asleep.

And now we know why his advice only costs a nickel.

But he's worth his weight in gold when it comes to getting Little Brother to sleep in that toddler bed.

Have a good weekend,
Busy-Dad-E