Perhaps you've read before about my daughter's bedtime antics. This is hardly the first time they've been an issue.
Or even the first time they've been dangerous. In fact, until today the only piece of furniture left in Sterling's room was her bed.
But today, homegirl took danger to a whole new level. And we officially moved her mattress to the floor. No more bed slides. No more bed mayhem (hopefully). No more using the bed for anything other than jumping and sleeping in.
See, I was talking on the phone during nap time, blissfully unaware of the mayhem happening in her room.
Thank God John was home, otherwise the story could've turned out very differently.
Evidently, he heard muffled screams coming from her room. He went in there, and she had removed all the slats from under her bed and was trapped underneath both the mattress and the box springs when they fell down on top of her.
Thankfully, he was able to lift it off of her before anything happened, but it terrifies me to imagine how differently this could have turned out.
And the awesome part? There was no remorse or concern in her face. She smiled happily at both of us and said "Hi! We snuggle now?"
Uh, no kid. We binge drink now. And try to forget how insane your versions of "fun" are.
Oh yeah, and we officially finish turning your room into an anti-fun kid cell, because all that gorgeous antique furniture is officially off limits until you are old enough to lift it of of yourself when you get trapped under it...
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