As soon as we fix one problem in our household, another one tends to crop up. When last I left you we had just transitioned Emma from her cradle in our room to a crib in my office slash guest room. The very next day, you wouldn’t believe who suddenly got it in his head to climb out of his crib.
Yes, that’s right. My seventeen month old son, Henry.
It has been a long time coming. All of the signs were there. Henry has mastered climbing into my glider, his father’s wingback chair, the dining room chairs, even the bed in our room and the guest bed. We’ve had quite a few scares when it comes to these stunts – if you’ll recall, when Henry climbed the guest bed he fell backwards onto the hardwood floor. While he was startled and gave me a heck of a fright, not ten minutes after he was trying to climb right back up on the bed. He is, in a word, fearless.
It was only a matter of time. Henry has been able to rest his arms comfortably on top of the crib for some time now. There would be times when I would go in to get him after a nap and find that he was toeing that line, literally – his toe would be up on the railing, his arms reaching to wrap around the top of his crib but I didn’t worry about it. I knew it would be soon but I kept thinking not yet, not yet. And then it happened. Just like that. The first Sunday after Gordon returned home from Pennsylvania, the first full day of Emma sleeping in her crib, he did it.
Henry had just woken from a nap. I wasn’t quite ready to get him up yet so I let him whine in his crib, as I often do, content that he’s contained sufficiently. Then the whining got… insistent. Higher pitched. Then a little frightened sounding and a tad pained. Sometimes Henry will get his leg stuck because he has turned himself wrong way – instead of going length wise, he’ll get width wise and gets his little legs and feet kicking out. I figured that this was the case and made my way leisurely to his room.
The Plucky Parent 