15 or 20 minutes later, I heard their bedroom door open and thought, "Sure enough, J's not going to nap today. SIGH." So, I walked out into the hall...and was met by Baby E, who gave me a loud, "Hi, Mama!" Wait, what? I'm sure I was the stereotypical picture of incredulity when I stared at him, dumbfounded. Where did he come from? Did I just dream that I put him in his bed? What was going on?
Befuddled, I put him back into his bed and closed the door. The only explanation that came to mind was that he had been reaching for a binky he saw on the floor and flipped himself over the edge somehow but managed not to injure himself in the process. Scary, dangerous, but not fatal, apparently. I wrote it off as a fluke and went back to my room. A few minutes later, I heard a suspicious noise but no door opening, so I went to investigate. This time I found Baby E already up on the top bunk across the room.
It was official: He had learned to climb out of his bed. And oh, the weeping and wailing and gnashing of teeth (by me). I put out a desperate call to our ward list for an unused used crib and within an hour I had gotten one, a 22 year old model from a family who was in the process of filling their trailer for a move out of state (recalls? what? la la la, nothing to see here, move right along!). We only need it for a few more months; I was planning on putting him into his bottom bunk at 2 1/2 years old, but he's far too young for that right now, so a borrowed crib it is.
Additional investigation revealed that Baby E had learned how to prop his foot up on the side of the pack-n-play, lean far forward and grab the door frame, and then use these two points of contact to pull himself up and over the side. Pretty coordinated, actually, if I were of a mind to admire such shenanigans. This is yet another of the side effects of having a two year old who is as tall as many four year olds and as adventurous as many folks 10 times his age.
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