The weekend we moved, my mom happened to be in town. She took Petite Artiste home with her so we could get more accomplished in quick fashion. She loved her special time with Grandma, but when she returned from her weekend whirlwind, she didn't arrive at the house, and bedroom, she thought she would. We were swimming in boxes and living in chaos. This had more of an impact on her than we realized. She still refers to the old house, her first house, as the "born house". The house she was born in.
She's adjusted. And, the more settled we become, the happier she appears to be. We struggle with her sleeping in her bed right now. Every night, she stands at the side of my bed pleading to "sleep to you?" Today, she and I rearranged her living quarters. My hope is by helping move things and around and deciding where things go, she'll find ownership in her bedroom. I want her to enjoy her own special space. And, I really want her to sleep in her own bed.
Sleeping quarters.
Play corner.
And, just outside her window there is a tree with a shape that resembles a heart. We aptly dubbed it "the heart tree".
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