Somebody in this household is a sleep rebel, and it's neither me nor lazy cat #1 or #2. Even wearing a professionally tailored sleep-sack (so that it's narrower at the feet) (and, yes, really), Quinn can still hoist himself up and over his crib railings. Kid is strong. You should just go ahead and buy your tickets for the 2028 Summer Olympics now. We'll keep you posted on which event, but my guess is high jump. Or pommel horse.
Consequently, he's been sleeping with me every night while Chris is out of town, which means Quinn is going to bed much later than he should and I don't have any time in the evenings to
catch up on Top Chef write. That's my excuse anyway. Easy out: blame the kid.
Not to mention getting-kicked-in-the-face-all-night. What is it about sleeping horizontally across the head of the bed that's so appealing to them? I want to be all "Don't you know better, dude?" but then I remember that he doesn't, in fact, know better. He's not even two yet.
Short of handcuffing him to the crib rails (seriously, it's been suggested), I'm at a loss as to how to get him to stay in his room safely at night. Crib tents have been banned and his door isn't lockable. I'd retrofit it if we hadn't already sold our house. It's bad to resort to Benadryl every night, right?
It's a good thing he's so cute:
But, Buddy, those bags under your eyes are hereditary and they're only going to get worse if you don't sleep. Just look at me if you have doubts. Don't say I didn't warn you when you're on your worldwide pommel horse media tour.