“Mama, I want to go downstairs,” he said sweetly from his crib. “Mama, I want to go downstairs!” his voice escalated as he realized no one was answering his call. These demands quickly turned into an all-out fit of screaming and crying. I don’t know why on this particular Tuesday night, two days shy of his second birthday, Finn came to the realization that:
a) playing was a better option than sleeping, or
b) life did not stop for all members of the household at 8:00 pm, or
c) being stuck in his crib was not where he wanted to be!
If only I knew what was racing through his mind when he decided he would rather be downstairs than in his crib. I don’t even remember what he was playing with that night before bed that perhaps he was desperate to get back downstairs to continue.
Regardless, something pushed him over the edge. He wanted out of his crib and dog gone it, he was going to get there.
After a few minutes of listening to his ranting and raving from the next room, it was quiet...and then a thud. I rushed into the hall just in time to see his little body appear in the doorway, eyes red from crying, but wearing his devilish, “look what I did” grin. Little Finny Boy had climbed out of his crib, and apparently landed on his feet!
We put him right back in his crib, but it took a bit of coaxing to get him to settle down for sleep after that. Amazingly he didn't even try to climb out the next night. He waited until Friday for a repeat performance. My little unpredictable stinker!
--JAK
