It's official. My scrapbook room is no more. It was nice while it lasted. A place just to myself where I could have all of my paper, stickers, markers, cutters, and stamps organized. A place where I could keep my stuff out and not be worried about the "mess."
But two weeks ago I caved. I was tired of telling Micah "no" all the time. Of sitting down on the couch only to jump right back up and pull him away from the bookcase. Or the TV. Or the Wii. For the hundredth time. He needed more space to call his own. A room where he wasn't constantly being told no. Space where he could crawl around. Pull himself up and not get yelled at.
So, we transformed my space into his space. It didn't take too much work. We moved the desk upstairs to the guest room (we took the twin bed out of the guest room and moved it to the attic--no one really uses it anyway). I emptied all of my stickers, papers, and embellishments out of the cubicles and filled them with Micah's toys and books instead. Then, we threw Micah in the room and let him go at it. I even brought out some toys that we've been holding on to, but haven't brought out yet because there just wasn't enough room (like the awesome chair from friends of ours in Michigan and all of his stuffed animals from various aunts and uncles).
He loves the room. He loves playing in there, pulling toys off the shelves. Crawling around to sit in his chair. Eating a book one minute, then throwing it on the floor to head for the ball on the other side of the room. Not getting yelled at. Everything in the room is for him.
It was worth the sacrifice.