Maybe I just have a hard time admitting my baby girl is growing up?
Or maybe I just like the security of knowing my little adventurer is locked up for the night.
Either way, Miss Priss is nearing two and a half years old and consistently measures up to at least the 95th percentile in height, and STILL we've got her in a crib.
The pediatrician had been warning me since she was 18 months old, "You know, your daughter is VERY tall, so she'll probably try to climb out of her crib. The safest thing to do is put a mattress on the floor and let her sleep on that."
Except, she never did try to climb out. No mysterious bumps in the night. No little person showing up at our bedside demanding breakfast at 3 am. She's been very content in her crib. And I've been her co-dependent.
Well, that is, until she got up from her nap the other day and I walked into her room to find this...
Can you spot what's wrong with this picture??? She's sitting on a BEACH BALL!!! Well, actually, she was bouncing on it, and having quite a giggle fest to boot. No, we do not let her regularly sleep with beach paraphenilia. From what I can guess, she reached through the bars at the foot of her bed and plucked it up from the basket it was sitting atop of.
And if that wasn't bad enough, she decided to show me just how tall and limber she actually is with one of these moves...
Now, mind you, that's about as far as she can get. She hasn't figured out the art of using her arms to pull herself up. Yet.
But the final straw (and, regrettably, I have no picture of this for you) is when we woke up to the strangest sound we'd ever heard from her. Was it laughing? Was it screaming? It didn't sound painful, but Hubster hurried into Miss Priss Lair just to be sure. It turns out it was both. Seems she had discovered the fun of WWE and was running and bouncing off the sides of her crib, the way an oversized wrestler bounces off the sides of the ring.
So it's really, REALLY time to get a bed. Not just for Priss' health anymore, but for the survival of the crib. We've got another kid coming, you know, and I think they frown on letting newborns sleep amongst splintered wood and missing bars.
But, I don't know, would it really be so bad if we put it off till Priss' feet stick out the end?