If you remember, we switched the Mini over to a “big boy bed” over the summer. I was so not ready to move him to a bed, as early as we did, I’d have kept him in there until he was 7 if he would have fit. He was never the type of kid to try to climb out of his crib. Now, Little Girl on the other hand, because I want to eek out every last bit of time I have in her crib, will crawl out of that thing at 15 months. Because that’s the way that sort of thing works. But that’s another story for the not so distant future when I write about how she has a big goose egg from attempting such a trick.
We opted not to go the toddler bed route. I didn’t want to have to buy another crib mattress, or crib, so we went ahead and got a youth bedroom set, and moved all of the nursery furniture, well, take a guess.
It took my breath away a little to see his small little toddler self in a giant twin sized bed. He was apprehensive at first and he’s still afraid of his headboard if his little Red Sox blanket is not positioned over it just so, but he does pretty well, and he STILL doesn’t really get out of bed, even though he can.
What I find funny is all of the shit he hoards in that bed. Because he has so much room, I find all sorts of things in here. Books, cars, shoes, my kitchen utensils. Shit that doesn’t belong to him. I find it shoved deep in the depths of the covers, in piles, and wedged under his body. I know that he at least gets out of bed to make his rounds and will again at some point during the night if he notices something isn’t in just the right place (i.e. I’ve moved it so that he doesn’t impale himself). I’m thinking the show Hoarders would have a field day with him.