You may recall that a few months ago David and I were deeply entrenched in a stand-off with our crib-jumping two year-old. My husband did not want to resort to the crib tent, which we used with Primo and which worked, marvelously, and led to peace and happiness, Instead he wanted to show his daughter who was boss the old-fashioned way, in a battle of wills. I conceded. After a few days of awful screaming, she seemed to surrender. I say “seemed to” because it only lasted two months or so, and then she started her crib-jumping again. Except this time, she was smarter about it. The months she spent in confinement gave her the opportunity to think up new, nefarious plans for home domination. She realized if she was quiet, she could go and do whatever she wanted.
It started a few weeks ago, when we were putting her to sleep earlier than usual, because she’d taken to skipping naps. So we’d stick her in her crib before her brother went to bed. We’d read him his books and tell him his stories and prayers and then we’d bring him into his bed to tuck him in. Only there’d be a little Goldilocks there.
“SOMEONE IS SLEEPING IN MY BED!” he would shriek, enraged. She is, of course, already the usurper in his mind, and this didn’t help matters.
Of course, we thought it was sweet that she wanted to sleep in her brother’s bed and we overlooked the transgression. Big mistake. Give ‘em an inch . . . .
The other night, we put her to bed in the Pack N’ Play in our room because she was menacing her brother and when David went into the room to grab something a few hours later, he found her in our bed, not asleep, but sitting upright, bleary-eyed, just waiting to be discovered. It was
So he put her back in the Pack N’ Play and she feel asleep. Then I went to bed a half hour later, creeping under the covers in the dark. When David came to bed he found Goldilocks sleeping in his bed, curled up right next to me. I had no idea.
Since that time, it’s been pandemonium. We put Sec in her crib and we find her sleeping in all sorts of strange places. The other morning she was sleeping with her head on a pillow under the coffee table in the living room. She sleeps in the bathroom. I discovered that one morning when I went to open the bathroom door first thing in the AM and it wouldn’t budge.
“Stuck on a goddamned towel or something,” I muttered, pushing the door again.
Then I realized what was stopping the door from opening was my daughter’s body, which was sprawled out on the other side.
I mean, I know they call these the terrible twos, but really, this is too much.
So I told David the kid was out of chances, we were putting up the crib tent and she’d be stuck in there and I wouldn’t have to worry about stepping on her when I walked into the kitchen for coffee.
The problem is, after only a week, she has figured out how to get out of the crib tent. Primo NEVER figured this out. He was too terrified of the zipping sound which meant lock-up and lights-out to even try to escape.
I have a Houdini baby. That’s what I’ve got. Not to mention an ulcer in the works.
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