Alarm Clock

We recently switched Cormac out of his crib and into a twin bed. Not necessarily because he was ready, but because Babies R Us was having a trade-in sale for cribs (bring your old, used one in, and we'll give you 25% off a new one). And since our old crib was apparently a death trap (read: dropside crib), we decided to take advantage of the sale. I mean, Cormac survived, but he's scrappy and has no fear. And he slept with us for the first six months of his life, which is likely what this next baby is going to do anyway, but still. Death Trap.

The transition was fairly smooth, especially considering that we did absolutely no prep work beforehand. Mostly it was, "Oh! Look! A big-boy bed!" And when Cormac discovered that he could jump around more wildly on this one, he never looked back.

The first few mornings, he didn't realize that he wasn't confined to his bed, and would lay there and moan until we came to get him. But then a little light went on in his head, and at 6:30 one morning we heard: click, pitter-patter-pitter-patter, "Oh wow! Hi, Momma! Hi, Daddy!" I'm not sure why the realization of freedom had to coincide with an hour-earlier wake up time, but sometimes the universe is cruel that way.

Then one night I had gotten up to pee for the third time, when I thought I heard a little voice outside our room. I looked out in the hallway, but there was no one there. A glance toward Cormac's room told me his door was open and his room was empty. Huh. And then I heard the sound of little feet on hardwood floor, and I realized that Cormac had gone downstairs. By himself. At 2:00 in the morning.

I came downstairs to find him holding his stuffed rabbit while looking at a book and drinking some water. Like you do at 2:00 am. It took awhile to convince him that it was, in fact, night-night time, but eventually he went back to sleep in his big-boy bed, and I went back to sleep in my pillow-infested bed. Only to be woken up at 6:30 am by, "HI!"

We are currently reconfiguring the baby gate layout.