On Father's Day, I totally thought that I was being punk'd by my husband. I am sound asleep and hear my son giggling. Okay, that's my cue to get up because he is playing in his crib and wants to play. Yeah, not so much. I open my eyes and beside my bed is a three foot little boy smiling at me. I am flabbergasted. I wake up my husband and start quizzing him like a drill sergeant. He just rolls over and goes back to sleep. Fast forward a few hours: I am still quizzing him -- are you sure you didn't get up and get him? Why aren't you concerned that he climbed out of his crib? What do we do now? What if he gets hurt? You get the idea.
The next morning I hear him stir, race to his room and see his leg about to swing over. I quickly tell him that Mommy says no and only she can get him out of his crib. He such a sweet little thing, we don't have any more problems...until this weekend.
It happens again. Now, he is super quick, super stealth and I realize he has got me beat -- and he is not even two yet. So, last night we converted our son's crib into a toddler bed. It was a piece of cake. We made a big deal about it, explained that he couldn't get out of bed and made sure he had his books and cars to keep him company. I kept peeking in and he was still in his bed. Success!
Rewind 20 minutes. About to go to sleep. Hear a thud. Then a cry. I start sprinting. Yep, he fell out of bed. He was so confused and it broke my heart. I lifted him back into bed, gave him a kiss and just sat there. It's not like his bed is three feet off the ground, but still...my baby hit the floor. I know, I know, I have years of bumps and bruises. Notice I didn't say broken bones.
So, that's the events that led up to my son falling out of his bed for the very first time. I gotta go and feel his head for any bumps.