Zombie-Ninjas at midnight

The Boy passed some kind of milestone tonight.

I was up late, trying to catch up on some Larry David Show reruns. I hear one of the bedroom doors open behind me, then nothing.

My hackles go up. I leap to my feet and jog down the hall. The last thing I expected to see was The Boy, looking at me irritably, saying, “I have to go pee,” like this scenario was something we played out every day.

We’ve been talking about it for a while. That last step on the potty-training autobahn. Getting up at night by himself to hit the head and losing the pulls-ups for good and all. He decided a while ago, by himself, that we would begin to implement this big change when we moved to the far-away home. I guessed I was all right with it. If he switches this behavior as quickly as he did with the thumb-sucking—ie: overnight—I can do a few more months of dragging him, zombie-like, to the bathroom every middle-of-the-night to help him lighten his bladder in the approved manner.

But he really is a zombie. Some nights, I don’t think he’s awake at all. He walks like both legs are asleep and his eyes are closed. I have to guide him by hand so he doesn’t walk into doorways and walls. It would be hilarious if the stakes weren’t so high.

Last week one night I had pulled him out of bed and to his feet and turned briefly to attend to some other little detail, and he went over. Like a board. Only his hands, seeming to throw themselves out on instinct alone, saved him from a nasty bloody nose or worse. I could watch it happen, but by the time I turned back to him, he was headed down, away from me.

He was so out of it, I was able to raise him to his feet and walk him into the bathroom without complaint, or even comment about his harrowing escape from a frightening fall. He just caught himself before he hit the carpet, ninja-like, then never spoke of it again.

Tonight, though, was the first time that I can remember, certainly since we’ve started talking about taking that final step, that he’s gotten himself out of bed to use the bathroom.

Now admittedly, it was because he was up because he was thinking about his upcoming birthday party that he was able to pull off his feat. But I take nothing away from his accomplishment. I was so pleased to see him and he was looking at me so suspiciously… Later on, he asked me what I was still doing up, like it was some really weird secret he had just uncovered and couldn’t wrap his mind around.

It was right after that he confirmed that he was indeed finding it hard to sleep because of thinking about the party he’s having this weekend. It’s ostensibly for his birthday (a couple months from now), but it might just as well be a farewell party too. I think it’s about as close as we’re likely to get. But we’re the ones—Okay, I’m the one—who never forged roots in this community. I’ve already promised I’ll give it a better go when we get to the far-away home. It’ll be easier this time; this time I have a four-year-old under my wing and that automatically admits me to the community of Dads. He’s my passport to passing as a regular joe.

Yesterday, he goes to The Missus, “When we move, this will be the far-away home.” Extremely cogent reasoning for someone who hasn’t made his peace yet with the fact that that his pal from down the street isn’t going to be making the move with us.

I think he’s finally gone back to sleep. He’s counting down the days until his party by how many “naps” (nights’ sleep) there are between now and then. I think he woke up tonight thinking he had scratched another off his list, only to be disappointed to discover it was still deeply night-time, and his Daddy keeps suspicious hours behind his back.

Next: Attack of the Zombie-Ninjas!