Transitioning from a crib (or your bed) to a "big kid" bed can be daunting, challenging, and even upsetting for some kids. It can also be really exciting! Play up how exciting it is to have a bed all to yourself. Let them pick out their own bedding (nothing will make a kid feel happy and secure at night like a Wonder Woman duvet), too.

Routine is going to be essential in helping your child "buy in" to this new bed idea. Sticking to what they know assures them of the following: "The bed may be different, but going to sleep doesn't have to be. You are safe, secure, and loved, and becoming a big kid doesn't mean we have to give up this beloved nighttime ritual."

Give them time to adjust and settle. They will probably get out of bed, but you'll be prepared for that. Still, this gives them time to observe what their new, crib-free independence feels like.

Calmly and sweetly tell your child "It's bedtime, my love!" escort them to bed, give them a hug and a kiss, and leave the room again.

(Full disclosure: I base Steps 4-6 on the Supernanny Stay In Bed Routine, which I watched performed many times on a million and four episodes of Supernanny. Jo Frost: you're my hero.)

Simply state, "It's bed time," and tuck them back into bed.

Say nothing at all, just calmly escort them into bed. Do not answer their questions and do not verbally engage with them. This is a firm but kind way to show them you mean business and there will be no funny business. Not on your watch.

Children naturally like to test boundaries, and with one fewer boundary in their way (i.e. the bars of their crib) it makes sense that they will really test you here. Hey, it's OK. This is just part of the process. You're doing great!

Feel good about yourself! You did it! They're in bed! Sure it took you putting them back in bed 28 times, but remind yourself it will get better and better. I mean, really, that wasn't so bad in the grand scheme of things, right? Time for you to reward yourself. Go sit on your couch and maybe crack open one of those craft beers in your fridge. You've earned it!

Hahahahaha! You should see the look on your face!

Because who the hell does this little punk think they are?

It is in this moment you realize that this is all a game to your child. A huge, cosmic joke in which you are the punchline. Your feelings are like so many hacky sacks for them to kick around with precision and joyful abandon.

You know when cartoon characters get really angry and they grow to 100 times their normal size and shout, and then the hair on the other person's hair blows back. Yeah, kind of like that.

Oh God! I'm sorry, baby! I'm sorry. That wasn't nice. Mommy loves you so much! Mommy is sorry! She made a mistake. She shouldn't yell at you like that.

Think back to Essie Davis' character in The Babadook, the button-eyed "Other Mother" from Coraline, or OG bad mom Joan Crawford as shown in Mommie Dearest. Yeah, that's who you are now. You're a monster. You're garbage. You're a garbage monster, and not a cool one, like Oscar the Grouch from Sesame Street.

OK. They're calm and you're calm. Give them a big kiss as you tuck them in once more. You'll do better now. They'll do better, too, because they know that it's time for bed. Besides, it's about an hour past their bed time now, so they must be tired.

You'd be annoyed, but that was some ninja magic. Damn they can move fast.

You realize at this point that you need to be faster than they are, which is tough, but hey: you have height on your side.

Yes, it really is the only way to keep them in and you can not do this right now. Oh, they'll scream, but that's a price you're willing to pay at this point.

(I mean, I'm not personally finding anything that says it's strictly speaking illegal... and it's already child-proofed... but I don't know if it's the best choice safety-wise... *keeps scrolling on phone*)

You feel a little bad about letting them cry themselves to sleep, but if it's the only way, right?

Not only awake but playing with toys! And literally all of the bedding you let them pick out for their bed has been stripped from the mattress and is on a pile on the floor.

Awesome.

You know, the one where you wordlessly bring them back into bed every time they get up. Just, yeah. Do that over and over and over and over...

You'd imagine soul death would be pretty dramatic, but no. It's sort of like someone gently blowing out a candle that had been flickering dimmer and dimmer for a long time. If you could feel anything anymore, it might be a kind of catharsis as you watch the wisp of smoke drift elegantly upward before dissipating into air. But you can't feel anymore.

It doesn't hurt anymore. It's like you're watching yourself from below, only things are wavy. Almost like you're at the bottom of a pool looking up.

That's it. That has to be it. It's late now, nearing your bedtime.

There they are, asleep in their big boy bed. You search the depths of your soul to find a measure of satisfaction or maternal softness as you gaze at your sweet baby lying there, but then you remember you have no soul. You do not weep. You cannot.

No dreams. Only sleep.

Hey, it's OK! Remember, your soul has been dead for hours now, so you don't mind. You don't feel anything anymore. You're a shell! And the best part about being a shell? When you have to do this again tomorrow night it won't hurt as much! So go ahead and let your kid share your bed: there's always tomorrow.

By then, coming to sleep in your parents room will be embarrassing and they'll stop.

CONGRATULATIONS! You have successfully completed The William Method and your child to stay in their big kid bed.