Your tiny little frame seems totally inadequate to house your larger than life persona. Everything you did is on a major scale: hugs, your open-mouth fish kisses, cuddles, foot-stomping meltdowns over Arlo touching one of your babies… You know nothing of scaling things back.
Your brother slept in a crib until he was three years old, and not once did he ever crawl out of his crib, even though he could. Once he transitioned to a bed, he never—until this week—got out of his bed and came down the stairs in the morning. At a year and a half, we’ve already had to transition you to a bed.
A few weeks ago, in the middle of the night, I woke up to a loud, BOOM! I literally sprang from the bed and ran up the stairs, because I knew that sound could’ve only come from one thing, a child falling out of the crib… Half-way up the stairs you started to wail, but the moment I opened your door and picked you up, you stopped, and instantly cuddled up in my arms. You slept in our bed for the rest of the night.
The next morning I asked you, “Did you fall out of your crib? Or did you climb out?” For your response, you illustrated the fall by hitting yourself in the forehead with the palm of your hand, and added, “I fall down, go bam, owie.”
The following night I laid cushions under your crib, and just an hour after we put you to bed, we heard a softer commotion, then a pattering of foot-steps, and then the sound of your door opening. We put you back in your crib only to have you repeat the pattern, the next time meeting me at the bottom of the stairs shacking the baby gate like you were trying to tear down the house. You slept in our bed for the rest of the night.
The following night you repeated your escape artist tricks, this time climbing down the stairs as you called out, “I want Bazers! I want Bazers!” You knew Mom and I were staying up to watch the Blazers in the playoffs. You slept in our bed for the rest of the night.
After that, we transitioned you to a bed on the floor, but we after a few more nights of you ending up in our beds, or us ending up in your bed, we decided to put a baby-proof door handle on the inside of your door. Don’t judge, you’ll understand when and if you have kids and you don’t sleep for a week! You pounded on the door for a handful of minutes on a few different nights, and then have fallen into a routine of going to bed rather easily, and then sleeping through the night. Thank you!
In the mornings, I hear your feet dart from your bed to your door, and I go in to find you with your blanket smushed to your face, pacie in your mouth and usually another in your hand, and your hair looking like an Elvis impersonator after a fast drive in a convertible. You immediately throw you hands up, looking for a lift, and then bury your face and blanket into my chest.
We typically spend the rest of the morning waiting for Arlo to wake up, laying in Mom and Dad’s bed. I drink coffee while you drink your bottle, and you beg me to look at pictures of “Baby Elliott”. You lay there and snuggle with me as you point to pictures of yourself and giggle, “So tiny!” You were so tiny, just yesterday, and know you’re in a big girl bed…
I love you so much,