Escape Artist
What is this, you ask?
It's a wooden wedge Simon cut using really loud power tools the night of July 4th and then covered with paper from a radial sander (affixed with staples) and then boosted to the correct thickness with...what is that?...weather stripping? I don't know, but it keeps the wedge in place, which is important because the wedge was built for use on Wombat's nursery door, which won't stay closed on its own because our house is ninety-eight years old and crooked and the first thing the kid does after he crawls out of bed at night is throw himself against the non-latching door while he howls like slasher-prey in murderous res.
So: wedge. And then we stick our fingers in our ears and sing "lalala." Wedging him in his room isn't any worse than stuffing him in a pillowcase, is it? (And what are the chances a pillowcase could even contain my little Houdini, anyhow? Magic 8 Ball says "Slim to none.")
(As for the wedge, I was really glad Simon came up from the workshop with that tiny wooden triangle instead of a brand-new, handcarved big-boy bed. If I'm not ready for my wittle babykins to grow up now, I certainly wasn't ready for it that night, and without warning.)
That first night Wombat climbed (climbed!) out of his crib, we fretted and freaked and reviewed our options (do we camp out on the floor? do we build him a makeshift cage out of boxes? do we just stay up all night to make sure he doesn't climb out of his crib? do we head to Costco first thing in the morning to buy duct tape in rolls the size of car tires?) and we eventually concluded that it was too late to do anything other than put his crib mattress on the floor and then pray he would be asleep soon, hopefully on the mattress, which, when you think about it, was kind of laughable considering it was July 4th and all of the illegal fireworks in the State of California were being launched from our neighborhood in a colorful show of patriotic festivity and brazen disregard for the law and the safety of others, and something that went on until almost midnight. Also, BOOKS!
Because if the explosions weren't distracting enough, we had to, for lack of other options, put his mattress next to his bookshelf, and then it was my job to lay on the floor beside the mattress, patiently, lovingly, refusing to read my son the books he kept handing me as he practiced his two favorite words: "Book. More. Book." After such a busy weekend, it was exactly as relaxing (for me) as it sounds, but at last, after much fidgeting and fussing and whining about the injustice of my firm ban on literature at that late hour, he finally went to sleep--monkey in one hand, travesty of a Little Golden Books version of Pete's Dragon in the other--and then I popped on to Amazon to look for crib tents.
Well. Strike one was that they cost about $75 a pop. Strike two was that the second customer review I saw told tale of a secondhand horror story in which a toddler got stuck between his crib tent and his crib and ended up severly brain damaged. If anyone will use his smarts to get brain damage, it would be my kid, so no, no thanks, CribTentKateers.
On Monday morning, we were all set to head to Ikea for a toddler bed (not cheap there, by the way), and I had psyched myself up to the point of even being a little bit excited about the whole thing (wha?), when I remembered that our crib is a convertible, so all we need to do is take the front off and voyluh: toddler bed. So we did. Only problem is that the drop from the mattress to the ground is still a good two feet, and buying a short rail to keep the boy from falling out at night was still a good $75 we'd rather spend elsewhere, and thus we have settled on (for now) the following artful rearrangement of available resources. Call me, Apartment Therapy!
(That stack of clothes is overflow from his bureau, which I probably should clean out soon considering that half of what's in there he can't wear because of certain daycare rules, and three-quarters of it doesn't even fit him anymore, as I was yet again reminded this morning when I sent my taller-than-average nearly-ninteen-month-old out into the world wearing pants labeled 6-9 mo. If I keep that up, someone's going to think I fell out of the bed on my head.)
The weather stripping is so that it sticks to the floor. That was the original intent of the sandpaper, but it just slid along the Pergo.
An elegant solution! Any use of that awesome orange couch is bound to be a good time :)
Hola, now 27 months climbed out for the first time last fall from a pack n play. A few months later he figured out how to do it from his crib.
For awhile, via the video monitor, we would barge in the moment we saw a foot come up and over the rail. It worked and he stayed in his crib for a good two months later.
Then, it was inevitable, so we put on the toddler rail, that came with the crib, and spend many nights picking him up off the floor or from behind the door and placing his sleeping self back in the crib.
AND, I changed the knob on the door so it locks from the outside and he's locked in every night. I don't know how we'd do it without it.
This part of the parenting gig I do not enjoy. His older brother fell out once and never tried again. We moved him out of crib right before 3 when brother came.
Sigh.
GOOD luck. :)
Okay, for one this is a pretty funny post. This post also has me a little scared.
My little one is only five months and has started the beginning stages of crawling. I can see how this all progresses. It goes from crawling on the floor to climbing out of cribs. Egad.
Genius!!! I salute you!
And this is precisely why I love you guys THIS MUCH!
Okay, I'm dying to know...what sorts of clothes are prohibited by daycare?
Books--Because they change the kids assembly-line-style, they can't wear pants with zippers, buttons, or snaps (basically just jersey elastic-waist pants (or dresses)). And because they go in and out several times a day, they can't have shoelaces. The kid has seven pairs of shoes that fit him right now and he can only wear one set five days a week! (Yes, it's a pain, but the benefits outweigh it so I try not to get grumpy about it.)
I love this. I'm a little terrified because this is near for us too, and our crib doesn't convert. Our house is also a million years old and there are THREE doors in the bedroom through which the kids can exit if out of bed. Screwed, that's what I am.
"slasher prey" *giggle*
Ahhh, that makes sense. It's nice they have a formal policy instead of my sitter (who I love dearly in many ways and is the best possible place for my boy), who has pass agro protested my choice of onsies by only snapping a single snap...until he had surgery on his junk and I had a legitimate reason to tell her to snap snap them all!
We are right here with you!!! Logan is climbing everywhere. If he can get on it, he does. If he thinks he can fit in it he climbs on in (broke a drawer the other day), and if he can get out, he does. Scary. My once baby proofed living room is full of death defying challenges for my 15 month old. We have Logan sleeping in a sleep sack. It is the modern version of a pillow case. He has slept in it since 11 months and does fine with it. It means we have a few more months of crib in our house!
Check out sleep sacks if you're interested.
https://www.halosleep.com
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I love the expression. Everyone needs to express there own opinion and feel free to hear others. Keep it up :)