Tuesday, September 25, 2007

One of those milestones you don't savor

The unthinkable has now been accomplished.

On Sunday, Lisa and I were busy getting packed up before getting Clay out of his bed. Clay has reached the point where, as lovable as he is, he is definitely foot fodder when we're busy running around. We pack a bag, he kindly unpacks it for us. We move a pile of clothes and he is eager to spread it across the floor, based on color, texture, or the whim du-jour. So, in the interest of productivity, in bed he stayed while we attempted to get ready for our trip.

Finally, I was ready to get him. I was, without exaggeration, less than 15 seconds from going into his bedroom when I heard a loud thump. Not the sort of thump that a blanket or stuffed animal makes when thrown from bed by an angry child. This was more the sort of thump that 25lbs of 19 month-old flesh makes upon impact with a carpeted floor. The obligatory cry followed immediately.

I opened the door and there he was, standing in his pajamas, blanket in hand, looking at me and crying. The important detail, of course, was that he was standing outside his crib. I'm still not sure if he was more upset about the impact or if it was the life-altering reality that he was now capable of getting out of bed on his own. That's a serious responsibility -- getting out of bed on your own. One moment, he's sitting in bed, angry at us for ignoring his pleas. The next moment, he's made a quantum leap in the developmental process. Alarm clocks at 0-dark-thirty and 90 minute commutes are bound to follow. I feel his pain.

When I opened the door, the anthropomorphic train of thought I associated to my 19-month old son was, "What the hell just happened?" I think he was more surprised by this chain of events than I was.

In conclusion, Lisa is now researching some sort of containment unit that is part zippers and part frickin' laser beams. I, on the other hand, am simply hoping that this is a precursor to near-instantaneous potty-training. Just as long as there is an adequate break between this phase and the asking-for-the-car-keys phase.


Blogger Jon and Kristyn Ritner said...

I have a pair of handcuffs you can use. Another reason why girls are easier than boys for the first two years. When they get to High school, we are trading.

01 October, 2007 12:01  

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