Changes.

This weekend, my little boy tried to escape his crib. We have moved the mattress down to the lowest level and we were hoping it would last at least 6 more months. But, alas. He figured out that if he stood on his pillow, it made him just tall enough to put one foot over the rail. Luckily, I caught him just before he heaved himself out.

We were faced with a decision: should we buy one of those crib tents to trap him in, or just bite the bullet and convert his crib to a toddler bed?

Knowing the type of child we have, we opted to just go with the toddler bed. I would rather deal with him getting up in the night than worrying about him strangling himself or — more likely — somehow figuring out how to get out of the tent and falling out of bed anyway.

I never thought I would be the type of mother who didn’t want to let go, but I am. I was sad when he stopped using his paci, and now I’m sad that the crib is gone. It’s all so sudden … it’s strange. And next, we will start potty training and soon this tiny boy will be running around in Underoos.

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