This morning I heard a commotion from Jacks room that was unfamiliar to me. Here are some things I AM familiar with, by sound:

  • glass bottles hitting the wall or floor
  • Jack’s head banging on the “floor” of the portable crib
  • The empty diaper wipes container, when we thoughtlessly leave it within his reach and he’s done removing individual wipe, crushing it into a ball. (I WISH I could hear the first diaper wipe ball hit the ground….)
  • Feet of Fury, hitting the wall. Picture a child laying on the mattress of a portable crib, stretching the mesh sides to their limit, pushing padding out of the way, so that his feet are able to beat his dissatisfaction into the wall.
  • Anatomically Correct Baby Doll head being flung into the wall, onto the floor.
  • A little sing-song warning, peppered with “ewwww!” and “gross!” and “ma-maaaaaaaaaaa” and sometimes “haaaaannnnaaaaaahhhhh!” performed with the special beat that comes along with trying to carry a tune while you’re jumping up and down. This song means in adult language “whoever goes in there should wear a gas mask, and go ahead and turn the shower on now because warm water dissolves feces better than cold”

So anyway. THIS morning I heard the crash and then subsequent “maaaammmmmaaaaa!” that I thought meant OK, it’s time to put him in the regular baby jail and head injuries be damned because he can now throw his leg over the side of the portable crib and roll out onto the floor.

So I went in. And he was not on the floor crying. (I would like to point out that I have placed a fuzzy rug on the floor for exactly this contingency)

He was on the top bunk of the bunk bed, whose ladder has been disabled (to avoid exactly this occurrence). Instead of throwing his leg over the only open side of the portable crib(which woud have landed him on the soft rug), he used his newfound leggy length to hoist himself onto the side of the portable crib, hang onto the end of the bunk bed, and pull himself onto the mattress.

Let me explain: We have a bunk bed wedged into the room, ladder side to the wall so that kids can’t get up there. It’s a family heirloom, or sorts. It’s in the kids’ room because I keep hoping that one day, my small ones will share a room, lay on their respective bunks and tell stories to each other, climb in bed with each other when a nightmare makes the whole room scary.

We’re um, not there yet. Currently, wedged into a corner and between the end of the bunk bed and the wall, sits a portable crib (pack & play, to all you youngsters) surrounded by pillows and comforters. That’s right, we had to pad the wall because even though he may not be able to injure himself permanently by banging his forehead against the wall, I can’t stand the little wound that rests in between his eyes.

And now he can do this:
end times

Perhaps it’s time for a Skinner Box.

Suggestions welcome.


One thought on “Peacetime=over

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