We’re visiting my mother this weekend (which, if you’re wondering, is why you won’t see this post until Sunday afternoon at the earliest even though I’m dating it Saturday – I don’t think anyone has located the exact whereabouts of my house from this blog, but I’m not actually about to advertise our temporary absence from it on the Internet). My mother bought a small cot last year to put in the spare room for visits of her First Grandchild, but two months ago Jamie got big enough to climb out of that, so now we’re back to bringing the travel cot, which has higher sides, on visits. Since it doesn’t have a proper mattress, we put a folded-up duvet in the bottom to pad it, along with a pillow for him. (I can tell you, it’s good getting past the magic one-year-old mark and being able to stop worrying about SIDS.)
Today, after setting the cot up for his nap complete with duvet and pillow, I looked at it and mused "Hmmm… I wonder how much longer it’ll take him to figure out that if he piles all of that bedding up at one end and then stands on it, it’ll boost him up just enough to get out?"
About fifteen minutes, as it turned out.
Fortunately, I escaped this particular joyful milestone in my child’s life, since Barry said to me as I picked Jamie up to take him up for his nap "Do you want me to settle him? After all, he behaves better for me than for you." My natural instinct to protest that I could so get him to behave perfectly well thankyouverymuch did struggle briefly against my other natural instinct to take the offer of help and run, but it wasn’t even close – I thanked him profusely, handed Jamie to him, and waved bye-bye with a light heart. So, while I got to read some more Harry Potter to my mother, Barry got the fun of holding a wriggly toddler in place on the bed until he finally fell asleep. Of course, there’s still tonight to deal with….