For a good long while, Henry has been protesting the bedroom Mom has decorated for the boys. Their initials are on the walls and the colors are more masculine than the room where Keith and I sleep, and we have done everything to make it feel comfortable for him, including white pillowcases. Still, he became quite upset on this last visit when I suggested he move into that room once Daddy arrived in Spartanburg.
"NO! I don't LIKE that room!"
In a last-ditch effort to understand, I sigh and say to him, "Ok, baby. Come in the room with me and try to tell me what's wrong with it." We walk in and he points to the ceiling: "The air!"
"The fan? We won't turn it on, baby."
"No, THAT!"
The AC/heating vent. Right above where his little body would sleep.
"You don't like the sound?"
Face screws up in frustration. "Yeah. I don't like that."
Keith climbs up on the bed, closes the vent, and assures him the air is closed; there will be no more noise.
I gently ask, "Is that ok? Can you sleep in here now?"
Reluctantly, slowly, "Okaaaaayyyy."
Communication is everything. And when we can't figure it out, we just keep trying.
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