Callie had just started taking steps, and she was only nine-months-old. This changed everything, of course, so we had to baby-proof our house, including moving her crib up to the highest notch. Rather than realize what this truly meant for me, I was a proud mama. I mean, whose children really start taking steps at nine months? I already had an over-achiever!
One evening after her daddy and I’d put her to bed, I talked him into watching a scary movie with me. Scary movies had always been my thing…but not so much my husband’s. It usually took a little probing, but he often gave in.
So, there we were in the dark, huddled up under the blanket—me oftentimes hiding my face in his shoulder. It had just gotten to the scary part, the monster was about to come out of the closet when we heard a soft knock, knock, knock coming from Callie’s bedroom door. We turned our heads and we saw two large shadows underneath her door that appeared to be feet, illuminated in the darkness from her nightlight.
I’m quite embarrassed to say, rather than my brave motherly instinct kicking in and me running in to save my daughter from the intruder, I shrank away in terror, pushing my husband off the couch to go investigate. I could tell he was scared too, but he jumped up and headed to her door, opening it slowly.
On the other side of the door was, in fact, not a monster, but my precious little daughter in her pink pajamas. She smiled as if she’d won the baby jackpot. And…she had. She’d learned how to get out of her crib at nine months, forcing us to get her a big-girl bed. Which then in turn, led to our next battle of parenthood–keeping her in her bed.