Nine toes

4 09 2007

When Ethan was younger and still slept in his crib, around the time he began to sit up and lie down on his own, he used to fall asleep in his crib sitting up, slumped over. Exhibit A.

Now that he is a grown man of 2, my worry is not that he will fall asleep in an awkward position (like that of SITTING UP with his head LOLLING ABOUT) in his crib, but rather where he will fall asleep.

Ethan has taken complete advantage of the freedom that the toddler bed allows. As soon as the door clicks shut for naptime or bedtime, he is up and outta that bed in an instant. Not to get into things, not to climb things or mess things up, not to play with toys, not even to break into his stash of hoarded M&Ms or make long distance phone calls. No, no, not my son. He simply… roams. He is a roamer. Around and around the room.

When he’s done roaming, instead of, oh, I don’t know, returning to his bed to go to sleep, maybe, he plops down on the floor in front of his bedroom door. When he’s tired of sitting there singing and talking to himself, he will return to bed and go to sleep, eventually. So it all works out in the end.

Until today. To be honest, I knew this day was coming. It was only a matter of time. What’s different about today was that instead of waking up at 7:30 or 8, like usual, Ethan woke up at 5. Right before he left for work, Jeff went into Ethan’s room to put him back in his bed because, he said, he was sitting in front of his door, banging on it. (I heard no banging, but whatever.) Instead of going back to sleep, Ethan seemed more fully awake than before, so I figured we might as well start our day.

That early start, combined with the workout on the playground (made even more exerting thanks to having to run for his life a few times from the Scary Monster Kid), made for a tired boy by the time lunch was over and naptime had arrived. I put him down at around 1, and listened on the monitor for the next 15 minutes or so as he proceeded to go through his routine of roaming, singing to himself, and sitting in front of the door. (I can tell he’s in front of the door because he leans against it and it makes noise.)

I got up after all was quiet to go check on him, and then… the inevitable. I quietly turned the handle, and pushed open the door… and pushed… and pushed harder. Stuck. Wouldn’t budge. Why? Because, oops, I’d accidentally left my toddler doorstop in front of it. Silly me.

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There he was, on the other side, snuggled in the corner in his makeshift bed (the dog Jeff won for me years ago at a Six Flags in Belgium makes a satisfactory pillow when paired with a package of diapers, apparently). I thought, Oh! So cute! Must get camera! I reached my arm around the door, snapped away, and then prepared to go in and put him in his bed. By prepare, I mean I pushed on the door some more, because there was a little foot in front of it, a strong little foot, it turns out. I pushed as hard as I thought I could without waking him or crushing his bones. No luck.

I couldn’t fit in the crack.

If not for this, I’d have been all set. But it’s bulbous, and it gets in the way, and now it was keeping me from entering my son’s room. I finally had to give up trying to not hurt or wake my sleeping boy and just put all my weight into pushing the door open some more. He did wake up, took notice of the one less toe on his foot, but went right back to sleep, as he had more important things to think/dream about while sleeping than a mere missing digit. Extreme fatigue (thank you, weird Monster Kid) makes a nice anesthesia.


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One response

5 09 2007
AndreAnna

This is so cute!!!

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