Jacob's new bedroom - progress report

I believe I may have mentioned in passing that we're shifting J-cub from his tiny box-room nursery into our second-bedroom study/spare room. It's been a hell of a job, mostly because we have Far Too Much Crap for this house, and it gets shifted around depending on where everyone is sleeping/who's coming to stay. The study is around the same size as our bedroom, although without fitted wardrobes, and is home to...

• a computer desk, computer, scanner, about 3 printers and a video player
• a cupboard full of records and recording equipment, a separates-stereo and record player
• 5 benno CD racks full of CDs (all the rest are in boxes in the loft)
• 2 billy bookcases full of books
• a piano
• 9 guitars
• a double futon
• a filing cabinet
• and piles and piles of boxes and books and bags and cushions and spare bedding and bits and bobs and rubbish

And no, you can't see a photo, it's a disgrace.

It just seemed so unfair that J-cub was crammed into such a tiny room, when the study is barely used by us, and rarely used by guests. So we figured that as long as the futon could stay in there, all the rest of the stuff could be crammed into the box room, and he could have a big new bedroom to spread out into and actually spend some time playing in. And we could reclaim some of the space - currently given over to toys - in the lounge.

During the Easter holidays, we've been sorting, and boxing, and shoving things in the loft (and even - gasp - organising the loft space), and shifting furniture around. And it's very nearly done.

Tomorrow, we're having a wardrobe delivered (just one of those canvas ones, for the bargain price of £5 once we'd doubled our clubcard vouchers in the Tesco Easter extravaganza) and going to IKEA to buy him a bed. Gulp.

I'm so scared that he won't sleep, and he'll be running around getting into mischief all night, and life will never be the same again. Or maybe he'll be like our friend's daughter, who - a year in to sleeping in a bed rather than a cot - still doesn't realise that she can get out of bed herself, and calls for her Mum to come and get her in the morning. They don't even have a stairgate, for Pete's sake. Whereas I'm envisaging locks all over the place, and gradually stripping back his beautiful room of interesting-oooh-I-must-play-with-this-now! toys and books, until he sleeps in a bare cell with nothing around to break in the dead of night. No. It won't be that bad, I'm sure.

But he really can't stay in the cot any longer, he can get his foot up on the rail and I'm sure he could get out if he tried hard enough. Plus he keeps waking himself up by rolling over and smashing into the bars.

By the weekend, hopefully, he'll be in, and it'll be lovely, and we'll all be happy. And I will remember to close the stairgate at night.