Parent/hack

Today was an interesting day.

At lunch we saw our neighbor from down the street wandering past on her daily walk with her four very small grandchildren in tow, a giant pickaxe firmly gripped in her right hand.  I have no idea what that was all about as she doesn't speak a lick of English but she was headed toward the park.  A few minutes later two teenagers staggered by, one of them limping with a cane.  Jeff and I speculated that the two events might be related.  Message recieved: don't cross Awuh.

Then we put Sam down for his nap.  As usual, a cacophony of bangs accompanied his incarceration.  Normally that stops in about five minutes and he's sound asleep, out like a light.  In the mean time it always sounds like an elephant is coming through the ceiling but we generally ignore it.  Our crib is one with a changing table attached the side which means that it's basically the perfect drum set for little feet.

Jeff found the banging unusual and asked me what I thought.  "Oh, it's just our son, communicating to you in Morse Code." I replied.  "'Dear Dad, How are you?  I am fine.  The weather is nice.  Please get me out of here.  Love, Sam.'"  Jeff, ignoring me, was sprinting up the steps to check on our son while I sat on the couch thinking to myself that he was fine and how cute it was that my husband still overreacts even though Sam is no longer a tiny baby.  (It's true, he really does overreact a lot.)

Suddenly from upstairs I heard Jeff's voice boom a loud "NO!  SAM, NO!"  My turn to sprint up the stairs, no longer convinced of anyone's overreaction, wondering what on earth....  Sam, our moneky, our pirate monkey, climbed out of his crib and was sitting on top of his changing table, back the room, banging merrily away on the wood between his legs, an inch of space separating his bum and a three foot fall.  I'll let you take that in for a minute.

MY NINE MONTH OLD CHILD CLIMBED OUT OF HIS CRIB ON HIS OWN AND ALMOST FELL TO HIS MERRLY LITTLE DEATH.

He wasn't sorry about it all either, the little snot.  Every single follicle of my hair is currently gray.  We cancelled the afternoon wagon ride and went on a fruitless many-hour pursuit of a crib tent that was rumored by store associates to be at that big store with the backwards "R" but which was in fact NOT there and would never be there again.  My mother ordered us one but it won't be here for a week.

In an attempt to keep Sam alive until the crib tent could come, we removed his bumpers, rightly assuming he was using them as stepladders.  And he most certainly was; without them he can't get out.  He also lost his tiny little mind at all the open space and had a crying hyperventilating panic attack.  He would. not. sleep. without. the bumpers.  This is a kid who's max cry time is 20 minutes.  He was still going strong at 45 minutes after no nap at all and a trip to the store so we took pity on him and brought him down to be with us before dinner.  We'd thought maybe a nap in the bumperless crib would help him adjust for the evening but ummmm....not so much.

That is when genius struck me.  Using several yards of grey flannel recently given to me by my friend Lorie and some old scraps of quilt binding I made curtains to tie around the outside of Sam's bed.  They're eye-achingly uncoordinated color-wise but they make for the illusion of a cozy cocoon.  He went to sleep tonight with minimal fuss (I think being tired helped too) and I ate my dinner feeling like a superhero.  Hah son, I've foiled you again!

Until next time.

Buwahahahaha!