Forcing the matter

And the matter at hand is Miles's transition to a "big boy" bed. As of 7 am today, a crib is no longer an option. It's as if a monolith appeared in his room, and his bed linens became instant tools. (Quick note: I initially spelled linens as "lenins." Yikes, I must become more domestic and less intelligentsia, STAT.)

Upon inspection, the pillow and comforter had been turned into a make-shift launch pad, and I am assuming his string bean legs worked as the rocket boosters. Sadly, the landing strip was his face. Nothing like seeing your little man greet you at the door, teary eyed and with an instant shiner. As breakfast wears on, that shiner has grown bigger and more menacing looking. He's looking less toddlery and more thuggish.

What to do? We've got a real bed in the wings for him- an awesome hand-me-down trundle bed- but I am not ready for that jump- literally and figuratively. Luckily, his IKEA crib is convertible. So off one side will go today, and up a set of bumpers. That's the easy part. The trickier part will be figuring out what will have to be removed my the room. I'm thinking his full size drum kit may need to visit a different room- the same goes for the guitar, paints, markers, and on, and on, and on. Wish us luck!