By four, Leo no longer slept in the crib.

The nursery became his room.

We removed the crib.

Kept the dresser.

Changed the wall paint.

Installed tactile labels on drawers.

High-contrast edges where useful.

Predictable furniture layout.

The cracked section of drywall had been repaired years earlier.

No mark remained.

Dad asked whether we should move Leo to another room entirely.

I said:

“Why?”

He looked toward the wall.

Memories.

But Leo had no fear of the room.

Moving him because adults hated the past would make his space about us.

So we stayed.

Leo chose bedding with enormous black-and-white geometric shapes because he could perceive the contrast.

Grandpa called it:

“aggressively modern.”

Leo called it:

“mine.”

He won.