Apparently we can't go to one of Rich's hockey games without me maiming our son in the time between when Rich leaves and we get there. Last time Ian fell and gave himself a big bruise. Today, I cut his lip with my fingernail trying to get him in the car seat (my hand slipped tightening the straps) and then he fell in the parking lot and bloodied his nose. So he looked like he was one of the hockey players.
It's amazing to watch Ian's little brain work these days. We used to worry about him falling off the bed (well, Rich used to worry more than I did). But he understands the whole concept of the edge of the bed and deals with it quite well. Every morning, he wakes up and when he decides to get off the bed, he crawls over to the edge. He first looks over the edge to make sure the floor is still there. Then he turns around and swings his right leg off the end of the bed. Then slowly he pivots and brings his left leg off while grabbing onto the covers. He hangs there for a good 30 seconds or so pondering if he wants to commit to getting down. And then he lets go and lands (sometimes less gracefully than others).
It entertains me every single morning.
Rich asked me to go upstairs and realign the camera since he couldn't tell where Ian was in the bed/crib. Now that we have the sidecar crib, he should have been happily snoozing in his crib that butts up to our bed. When I got upstairs he was face down in the crack between the crib and the bed.
This seems to be the absolute best place to sleep, since he does this all the time. And it's shaving years off of Rich's life. At least once a night, Rich will make me up to check on Ian and if he's still breathing. Our toddler. I'm convinced he will be checking his breathing when he's 10.
So I moved Ian back into the crib section, readjusted the camera and asked him as a personal favor to his father if he could not suffocate himself. He murmured something and burritoed himself up in his blanket.