My little climber.

As I write, I'm huddled up in the nursery, lamenting the fact that we have no video monitor. Yes, I know mothers for hundreds of years have survived without video monitors, but they also survived without air conditioning and I'm the first to admit I couldn't live without that. Admit it, neither could you.

The way I see it, transitioning Eli from a crib to a bed would be much easier if I could catch the little stinker in action, slithering out of his bed to play with his toys, without having to sit outside the door like a creepy stalker. BUT, on this, his first official day in his new bed, I feel I have no choice. He'll learn, I tell myself. Obssesively.

Michael and I debated when to make the transition and once we saw baby #2's boy parts on the ultrasound, we decided to do the bunk bed thing and get Eli used to it before the baby arrives. The beds were scheduled to be delivered yesterday, which is funny because...

Eli's a little monkey and finds great fulfillment out of climbing on, scaling, or jumping off of anything with an elevation greater than 6 inches or so. That's why I was befuddled that he had never gotten out of his crib. Isn't that the ultimate toddler--and more specificially, male toddler--challenge? I figured it was largely out of fear and figured hey, maybe we'll wait a few more weeks before we make the switch--he's clearly content in his crib and there's no need to rush it.

Well yesterday, after putting Eli down and turning on his rain machine (complete with 4 other noise settings, one of which includes a heartbeat straight out of a kitsch horror film), I went downstairs and turned the (non-video) monitor on in case he put his foot through the crib slats again. About 20 minutes into what should have been peaceful slumber, I hear the heartbeat on the monitor, loud and clear. That only means one thing: he's escaped, and on the day we're expecting to get the new bed! I crept upstairs and shot this video of him caught in action. Yesterday's nap was a bust, obviously, as he was high on the thrill of figuring out how to escape.

This, I told myself, is clearly a sign from God that it's the fullness of time for little man to be in a big boy bed. The Lord knew my mind was wavering, and He put me at ease by graciously giving me the machinations of this sweet boy at just the right moment, on just the right day.

And so it begins... in the last hour Eli has had 3 (maybe 4?) failures to resist the temptation to get out of bed. And consequences to boot... But he'll catch on, and he and I will be none the worse for all this training! Oh, and also, how did I get to this point of having a near two year old who is in a bunk bed? Where does the time go?