The Pitter Patter of Little Feet

D-Day. Friday evening we worked furiously after work to dis-assemble the cribs, move them into the playroom (now play room/girls' bedroom), set up the toddler beds and introduce the boys to their new freedom before the girls went bananas at 6:30 wanting to suck down a bottle and get to sleep so they could start their nocturnal screaming matches. We got Alida down in her new crib, and Elaine would have nothing to do with it. Eventually around 9:30 Elaine gave up, vowing her vengeance for 1:30 in the morning. We jammied up the boys and attempted to stick to their routine as if there was nothing new to see here.
Nine-thirty Friday evening. Two hours past the boys bedtime.Ten o'clock Friday evening, two and a half hours past the boys bedtime. What you can't hear is the thunder of boys jumping and running and throwing and screaming for that entire two and half hours.
Ten forty-five Friday evening. They've given up. Not as comfortable as we imagine it could be, but pretty cute none-the-less.
Checking in at 5:30 Saturday morning after the ladies completed their evening of drama. Again, not as comfortable as we would think they could be, but a cute photo.
Saturday morning--7:30 a.m., after listening to the maniacs jump up and start thumping much earlier. Safety first. First order of business, take the plastic bags out of their apparently not high enough pouch hanging on the door so they cannot become further playthings for the boys.
Two o'clock Saturday afternoon. I had taken Benjamin out with me to get his haircut for the first time by someone who knows what they're doing (photo op later). Benjamin was tired. Nicholas was apparently also tired.
Two-forty Saturday afternoon. Adding the night table was reconsidered. Nap time was abandoned.
Saturday night--7:30. After utter melt down at being exhausted, the boys were put to bed at 7:00. They did not fuss. They did not thunder. They snuggled up and passed out.
Saturday night 10:00. A little rearranging and all is still well. Then a baby cried. Then we heard a thump in the boys room. I went to baby; Patric went to Nicholas, who was a bit stunned and laying on the floor. He was given his own bed and settled back down.
And all was well.
Until the nap time that didn't happen on Sunday afternoon during the thundering-knock-down-refuse-to-sleep-take-a-chunk-out-of-your-brother's-face time.
Wonderful. Family pictures are tomorrow morning.
And if I hadn't dropped (Patric says spiked) my poor over-worked camera this evening and broke it (although thankfully I was still able to get our pictures off of it), we would have picture to share of two boys who, exhausted again, were snuggled up together in the corner, both sleeping on the floor.