I still have one strong hold on babyhood: The crib. Ike still sleeps in the crib.
Our pediatrician expressed surprise (as did some of you, in the comments on this post) that he hadn't climbed out yet, especially as our two-year appointment wore on and she witnessed his considerable climbing and furniture-scaling skills.
I don't know. I'm sure he could if he tried. I once saw him get a leg up and a foot hooked over the railing. I told him to stop that. He listened.
I think he just...likes the crib. Or he hasn't yet realized there might be other options. He'll play on his brothers' beds but shows no interest in staying there at bedtime.
(Even though some nights the bottom bunk remains sneakily unoccupied.)
I did the math the other day (TRANSLATION: I looked shit up in my blog archives) and realized that Ezra was about two months older than Ike is now when we went cold turkey from the crib to his bunk bed, and Noah was only two WEEKS older when he made the move to a toddler bed.
That toddler bed got accidentally maliciously destroyed when we put it up in the attic and forgot about it — at least until we heard the distinctive CRUNCH of cheap splintered MDF after tossing a suitcase full of smaller suitcases over in a corner and...oh. Whoops. That's where we put that.
So we don't have a toddler bed to move him to. Shame.
The crib technically converts to a twin bed, provided I can track down 1) the conversion kit, 2) the intructions, 3) the hex key that fits the crib's screws, which naturally are weird and non-standard. And also provided that my whining doesn't override Jason's sense of fiscal responsibility, because I kinda hate that crib's style now and think its color and size will eat up 90% of Ike's very small room, and ALSO every edge of the thing has been chewed on by three very fiesty sharks. So I'd need to paint or refinish it and really, I just want to buy Ike a new bed.
Except that shit, I don't want to buy Ike a new bed.
He's just fine where he is, for now.
For just a little bit longer.