Monday night Tom adjusted Mad's crib down to the lowest level. Even though she hasn't fully mastered crawling (oh, she'll get there, just give her a minute, would ya?), she's pulling herself up... to her knees or her feet... on any stationary object.
The good news is that I don't have to worry about her tumbling out of her crib while I'm going to the bathroom first thing in the morning. Not that she's that tall (although at 27.5 inches, she's no shorty), but a mom worries.
The bad news is that she's now too low for me to lean in and give a little noggin smooch while she's sleeping. Not that it stopped me from trying... tonight Corey and I went to peek at her a few hours after she went to bed. So cute.
I couldn't resist leaning in. One foot had to come off the floor. If I leaned just... a... little... bit... more I could reach her, right? Next thing I knew, both feet are off the ground and I'm flailing, trying to smooch her without falling in with her.
With my fat ass, it must have looked pretty funny. Corey did the silent laugh and went back to bed.
I would just like to send a little thank you to my husband, who "kicked the tires" of every crib we liked before approving this one for its sturdiness.