Last night was something of a miracle: for the first time since we returned from Spain in May, Oliver spent the entire night in his own room, on his own bed (actually, his own couch, which is where he prefers to sleep, and we’re not going to argue with him on that preference).
The technique that led to this? Well, perhaps it’s random chance. But the night before we “laid down the law.” We didn’t lock Oliver in his room — that suggestion from others, while effective for them perhaps, struck us as a little too draconian. But every time Oliver got up and came into our room, we simple told him to go back to his own room.
He made the trip about 25 times that night, and sometimes he would simply stand in front of Catherine or I for 20 minutes, thinking we would relent. But we didn’t.
Yesterday, Catherine followed the suggestion of a very smart and helpful chap at C.H.A.N.C.E.S. and, with Oliver’s help, prepared a series of pictures that laid out the process of going to bed. There’s one in the kitchen that shows having some toast, having some juice, reading a book, kissing Pete goodnight. There’s one upstairs that shows brushing teeth and washing hands. And the progression ends with a picture of Oliver sleeping in his own bed.
Whether it was our insistence, the diagrams, random one-time chance, or simply Oliver’s independent wishes, we’re all quite happy about this.
The irony? Both Catherine and I woke up several times in the night wondering where Oliver was.