So my husband dismantled Pea’s crib this afternoon, right before nap-time. It has been officially decommissioned.

But I’ve been told not to donate it just yet. We’re putting it in the attic. “Just in case,” he said. Naturally, in my little mind, “just in case” meant “honey, we’re probably going to have another baby, so let’s just hang onto this beautiful crib for a little while longer, okay?”

Nap-time. In the new bed. Which is actually my old bed, from my childhood. A beautiful mahogany sleigh bed, with a mushy and comfy mattress on top and some beautiful Shabby Chic linens just perfect for a yummy little girl like Pea.

“Is this my new big girl bed? A big girl bed? I love it! A big girl bed! This is fun!”

And then, she gracefully climbed OUT of her new big girl bed. At nap-time. No nap today!

Repeat this sequence over and over in your mind for an hour. Because that’s pretty much how we’ve spent the last hour. Putting her in her bed for a nap. She’d read a book. We’d leave and shut the door. She’d climb out and open the door and wander into the den.

I now know that my husband’s request that I not donate the crib just yet has nothing to do with us having another baby. Nope. We’re not having another baby. We’re just going to have to put Pea back into it if this continues…