I think I have found the solution to getting this kid out of my bed.
Because he has to get out of my bed. If he doesn't get out of my bed, I can already see the argument when I catch him in bed with his girlfriend--the argument about whose bed it really is.
So last Friday I put him in his crib for his nap. You know, the torture chamber. He started to scream maniacally. I called D.
K: I put him in his crib.
D: I can hear him.
K: From work?
Of all the things I miss since I have gotten pregnant and had a child, I miss my brain the most.
K: He is not happy. (able to actually smell my husband disapproval at my actions)
D: (clearly trying to decide of catching a cab home to save his mirror image from the EVIL MOTHER would be faster than, say, calling Child Protective Services directly) I thought we were going to get him his own bed this weekend.
K: I won't let him cry long. He has only been crying for 5 minutes. That's about how long he has cried (cumulatively) since birth.
D: Well I guess crying for a little while won't hurt. Maybe 10 minutes.
This spoken like a man who has not had to give up ONE INCH of his side of the pillow top mattress to the child I am now affectionately referring to as T-bone, because that's how he likes to sleep these days.
I then went out to Costco and bought an Elmo blow-up toddler bed. Which looks frightfully like a dog bed. Which my husband HAD to bring to my attention.
However, I have not had to share my bed with anyone (excect the person who pays the mortgage) for three whole days. So the kid sleeps in an Elmo dog bed. At least he's sleeping and it isn't with me.