Just yesterday K and I had the following conversation:
K: When do you think we should transition him into a toddler bed?
Me: Maybe when he’s three?
K: Not sooner? Like when we get a house?
Me: That crib is the only reason he agrees to sleep. He can escape a toddler bed. He can’t escape a crib.
Why did I tempt fate by having this conversation? Don’t I know better?
Because as of twenty minutes ago? He can climb out of his crib. Twice. I put him in for his nap. I leave the room. Two minutes later, grinning baby in PJs in the living room. I moved the rocking chair to the other end of his room. I took away his bumper. Two minutes later, the pitter patter of little feet on hardwood floors. K came home and Waleed eagerly demonstrated how:
And while its good to know how he does it. I also need to figure out how to stop it. Because this? This is bad. This is very very bad. I’m going to put him in his sleep sack for the next attempt since I’m assuming that might make things more challenging for him, but I can’t transition him to a toddler bed yet since we’re in a microscopic condo and we really want to stick with the furniture we have, and also because if we put him in a toddler bed how will we ever convince him to sleep since its so easy to jump out of a toddler bed? Though I guess its getting easy for him to jump out of a crib too.
As I watch him stroll around the condo in his footed PJs inspecting books and relocating our shoes, I sense a self-satisfied pride in his gait. While I do want him to assert his sense of self, I do not want it asserted in Houdini-like-crib-escapes. Any advice, commiseration, sympathy will be rewarded in eternal gratitude from this very befuddled and quite overwhelmed mama.