Last weekend, Jay and I got really brave (some might say really stupid) and tried moving WCK from her crib to a big-girl bed. It was technically the same bed; we have a crib that converts to a toddler bed when you detach the front railing thingie. Just undo a few bolts, and the kid is free.
The next four hours went like this:
PARENT: WCK, get back in the bed and go to sleep.
WCK: Ha ha ha ha ha ha!
PARENT: Get back in the bed.
WCK: Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha haaaaaaaaaaaaaa!
We also made the disturbing discovery that WCK knows how to work a doorknob and can get from her room to the bottom of the stairs in approximately .0001 of a second.
By the end of the night, WCK was back in the crib. Jay had the really good idea to turn the crib around so the open end is against the wall. The back end (which is now the front end) is much too high for her to climb over and escape. I'm planning on keeping her there until she is 21. She can take a Pack 'N Play to college.
Anyway. I'd been expecting that it would go badly, so before bedtime started I was trying to look at the bright side of the big-girl bed.
"In theory," I said, "when she drops her pacifier out of the bed, she won't have to call for us. She can get it herself."
WCK flashed a wicked, wicked grin.
"In theory," she said.