H. is a lightweight, but he's all muscle. When we met him at 5 and a half months old, he was jumping. His foster mother remarked how strong he was. And he still is. He may be lean (I don't think he's an ounce over 21 pounds) but don't let that fool you. The kid has superhuman strength. And the smarts to match.
And so why did it surprise me, then, when I woke this morning to horrible, can't-catch-my-breath crying that I would run into his room only to find him...on the floor. Yes, that's right folks, he climbed out of his crib and landed with a THUD. It's at moments like those that your parenting skills are tested: do I swoop down and lift him up and ply him with kisses to comfort his shaking body...or do I just stand there and marvel at how strong and ingenious he is to figure a way out of his torture chamber? Okay, I went with door number one and hugged him and kissed him until he stopped crying. Fifteen minutes later.
So now. What to do? I guess we'll wait and see if it happens again and if so, we might have to buy one of those tent thingys. Or move straight to the toddler bed. I just don't see him staying in it after I leave the room. I'll take any advice from the Beentheredonethats. Until then, I'll just hope that Bam Bam stays put.