The Time Has Come...

To buy the Boy a bed.

Rats.

Unfortunately for my husband and I, the Boy has learned that he can scale pretty much any surface now. He regularly climbs the entertainment center, and of course - those damn Lazy Susans. But now, he has figured out the Big Climb.

How to get out of his crib.

It all started a week ago. He did something that earned him a timeout (And I don't remember what because he is the KING of the time-out, so it could have been anything.) Well, I put him in his crib - you know, so he could sit and think about what he did.

And so he sat.

And he thought.

And he came up with a plan.

He fell out of the crib.

Bam!

I get to the top of the stairs just as he's coming out of his room with this proud smile on his face. "I out, Mommy!" he announced, as pleased with himself as if he'd just discovered the cure for cancer.

**facepalm**

I should have known. Should have seen it coming. But no, I was blissfully, blindly unawares that last night was coming. Surely he wouldn't want to fall out of his crib again, right?

Well, yes.

To a point.

The fall got the little wheels in his head turning and, at the delightful hour of 3:45AM (AM!!!) my husband and I wake to the blindingly bright light of the hallway lamp.

And the sound of my son's toy iPod thingy fading into the distance.

My husband gets up, finds the Boy in my office (thankfully he hadn't quite made it to the computer...) and puts him back to bed.

Yeah. Right.

Not thirty seconds after my husband comes back to bed, the Boy's bedroom door opens and the light in the hallway is burning once more.

**facepalm**facepalm**

Now, the one baby gate we still have is outside. We use it to block off the deck steps leading to the pool deck. It's covered in 3+ inches of snow and ice. It's now 4:00 AM and the Boy is wide awake.

Fortunately for us, the door to the Boy's room locks. And the people we bought the house from were relatively smart people. They put the handle on (the door handles are French door handles - very elegant) backwards (er, reversed, maybe??) so the lock is on the outside of the door. We can lock him in and he can't lock us out.

I'll admit, I hate the thought of locking him in his room, but it was four in the morning and the last thing I wanted was for him to get into the knives, or the refrigerator, or anything else. So there was little choice, really.

But if I thought I hated the idea of locking him in his room, he absolutely despised the notion. And was none too shy about letting me know it, as well. So I tried to explain it was for his own safety (yes, I know he's only 3, but I really felt terrible about it.) I told him I didn't care if he sat on the floor and played with his toys all night (there's nothing in his room that can hurt him), but the door had to be locked.

So back into the crib he went. Back to bed I went. By then, my husband (who was going to sit up all night with the Boy) was sound asleep (yes, I know). The boy yelled for a few minutes. Then got quiet.

Now, I don't know when he did it, but he climbed back out of the crib. I assume he conked out on the carpet, but he was quiet and that was a good thing.

So now we have to go and buy him a Big Boy bed.

And a gate.

Probably two gates. The Boy is part monkey.

He gets that from his dad.