911, We Have A Jumper

I always said we'd convert to toddler beds once the babies started climbing out of their cribs.  I'm not sure I ever said I'd be willing to do it at 15 months . . .

This evening, during story time, Finn started to climb into his bed (very proud moment).  So I picked him up and put him inside, then continued to read to Mirabelle.  Apparently, Finn changed his mind and decided to climb--nay fall, out of his crib.

My back was turned (silly me for assuming those three foot bars encasing his crib were some sort of safety device rather than mere decorative accents).   He landed on his back with a thud, stared up at me for approximately three seconds (I counted), then began crying either out of shock, or mild pain, or simply because it seemed appropriate.  Luckily, he was fine.

I will say an evening prayer before I go to bed tonight (I'm very bad about the consistency of these . . . but if God is all knowing, than it should go without saying, I'm a big fan).  I will ask for just a little more time (three more years should be plenty) before we convert to toddler beds.

I guess I always assumed (insert snickers) once the babies learned how to climb out of their cribs, they would be old enough to handle toddler beds.  But Mr. Ready-For-The-Nearest-ER has begun testing the limits of this theory before he's even bothered dabbling in the spoken word.

For the moment, we're going to play the Denial Card and see if he attempts this maneuver again any time soon (what are they teaching kids in preschool these days?).  Our other option is to move to the toddler bed and deal with endless nights of The Where Did Finn Go Game.  Or, we could invest in this absurd, albeit wildly useful, contraption called a crib tent.  Frankly, I'm just not sure how we humans managed to survive before such inventions as the crib tent, the pee-pee teepee, or the Zaky.