It's been five days.

Had it not been for a helpful visit from Jed's mom and her Significant Other to help us during the move, not to mention a two-day business trip afterward, it would have been Day One that The Champ was not only introduced to his new room but forcibly installed there for normal sleeping hours.

Last night we helped the boy select a bunch of toys and brought them to his new room: A helicopter; a plastic farm; a double-decker parking garage; a veritable sales lot of tiny cars; scads of books, pilfered from his sister's room.

He made room for me on is bed and slid under the covers. A smile on his face that I knew expressed a delight at this new "game."

We read three books, he asked me to sing "Pirate Ships" and he sang along with me. His squinty-eyed smile and voice cracking at the parts he knew ... "Prirate shis. Prirate shis ... merr-an-booooold" ... even makes me think of Alfalfa from Our Gang.

He begins to protest our new bedtime routine the minute I tell him it's dad's turn to read.

From his sister's room, through his closed door and hers, all I hear is the low voice of my husband and ...

Tears. Tears. Tears. Screaming. Tears. Tears. Tears. Mama. Mama. Mama. ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZzzzzzz.

Breaks my heart. I have no need to break up the family bed.

To be fair, it breaks Jed's heart, too.

So when the boy awoke at two a.m., sitting up in his big boy bed crying in the dark, he arose and went off to console him. He soon returned with a sobbing child and tucked him into bed beside me.

In the morning Jed showered him with approval anyway ...

JED: "You slept in your own room last night! What a big boy!"

CHAMP: "NO! Sleep HERE!"

But he said it with a smile.

It's a start.