After spending a full month talking up the new ‘big-girl’ bed, we were finally ready to initiate Stella into the world of cageless sleeping. Concurrent with our cheerleading to Stella on how great this new change would be, was the cheerleading we were giving ourselves as to how it was not going to completely ruin any chances we had of sleeping normally EVER AGAIN.

The initiation sequence:

We tried to make sure we kicked off the morning right with a field trip to go pick out her sheets, blankets and comforter – even throwing in a bonus Dora pillow to sweeten the deal. So far, so good.

The transition:

All it takes is a couple of twists of the hex wrench and we have irrevocably change the course of history. After all, this isn’t just an issue of her being able to get out of her bed. It is her ability to get out of her bed, escape from her room, make her way into any room of the house and fashion instruments of destruction — all while we sleep. It is only a matter of time before I wake up to find Stella staring at me while holding a popsicle and the laptop computer.

Nap time, attempt #1:

Much to our surprise, while trying to find homes for the stuffed animals that used to be wedged between the crib and the wall, Stella looks at me and says “Ni-Night, Mama.”

Me: “Are you ready for your nap?”
Stella: “Yeah”

No. Way. It can’t be this easy. This is a trick. It has to be.

Realizing that her sheets are still in the dryer, but not wanting to miss an opportunity, we throw together a makeshift sheet and blanket set and cross our fingers that this might actually work. Kisses, bottle, boo-white-sugar, and we are out the door.

Quiet.

Quiet

Quiet.

Ten minutes go by, and then I hear it. Shuffling. Footsteps. Jiggling of the doorknob. Then the knocking. Knock-knock-knock. “mAAAAAmaaaaa.” Damn.

I try leaving her alone to see if it will take. Nope.

Attempt 1: aborted.

Nap time, attempt #2:

See Nap time, attempt #1, except with the added bonus that instead of jiggling the handle, she figures out how to let herself out of the room. She saunters into the kitchen, “Hi Mama!” It’s one of those moments where you want to be all parental, but all you can do is laugh.

Nap Time, attempt #3:

After repeated meltdowns throughout the afternoon, and self-admitted tiredness on behalf of her highness, we go for attempt #3. We are optimistic. We gather our stuff, head in and try again. She looks so adorably cute tucked into her new bed. I cross my fingers and hope for the best.

Quiet.

Quiet.

Quiet.

This is about the point where I realize we need to install a peephole in her bedroom. What is she doing in there? Then I hear it: Shuffling. Footsteps. Jiggling of the doorknob. And knocking. Instead of leaving her to her own devices, I decide to try to help things along a little. I lay down with her, talk to her about her big-girl bed and try to get her mellow enough to actually fall asleep without trying to escape. It takes a while, but I do it! Her eyes begin to droop, her bottle falls to the side…SUCCESS! I slink out and Steve and I share a high-five, and then we wait. What happens when she wakes up?

Mission accomplished:

Flash forward an hour and a half. The unmistakable sound of a doornob jiggle emanates from the hallway. Before actually allowing her to open it we greet her at the door. Deep down, I guess we are just hoping that the last time she got it open it was just a fluke and that she doesn’t actually remember how. The longer we can keep her from freely running amok while we sleep, the better.

And so ends the afternoon.

And so begins the evening…