Most mornings, I rely on my kids to wake me up instead of setting an alarm. Recently, I heard my toddler, Mia, stirring in her crib, so I went to get her. To my surprise, when I opened the door, she was already halfway over the side, one leg dangling while the other was on tiptoe as she attempted to escape her crib prison. It struck me that we needed to get my son, Jake, a new bed this weekend so that Mia could inherit his toddler bed. Clearly, she wasn’t going to wait much longer for us to make that decision.
Reflecting on that moment, I realized I had ignored the signs that she was ready to move on. That afternoon, I placed Mia in her crib for a nap, and as I listened to the monitor, I expected her to start chatting with herself upon waking. Instead, an hour later, I was startled by her frantic cries. When I rushed in, I found her leg trapped between the slats of the crib, her other leg awkwardly perched over the edge.
In a panic, I tried to help her, but her chubby little knee was wedged tightly, making it impossible to free her. I called for Jake to fetch my phone, only for him to come in and express how he couldn’t concentrate with all the noise. Classic four-year-old empathy, right?
I explained to him that Mia was stuck and needed help. He darted off to find something that might soothe her. He returned with pretzels and an entire jar of applesauce—better than I could have managed. Unfortunately, my call to my husband went straight to voicemail.
As the situation escalated, I remembered that my in-laws lived nearby. I frantically called my father-in-law, asking him to bring an Allen wrench so we could disassemble the crib. Meanwhile, I asked Jake to grab my laptop to distract Mia with a cartoon.
When my in-laws finally arrived, I soon realized that the Allen wrench wouldn’t suffice. The slats weren’t designed for easy removal, and we had to resort to cutting her out. This made me wish I had taken the time to get my neighbors’ contact numbers when we moved in. In a moment of desperation, I ran over to borrow a small saw from them, hoping they could help.
As my neighbor plugged in her saw, Jake continued to narrate his cartoon plot, oblivious to the chaos. Once the saw buzzed to life, Mia went quiet and started shaking. Thankfully, after cutting one slat, we were able to free her leg, and I felt the blood return to her limb as I lifted her out.
We were fortunate with Jake; he never attempted to climb out of his crib. When Mia was born, we moved him out to prevent jealousy, and if it weren’t for that, he might still be in there today! Unfortunately, we underestimated Mia’s climbing skills.
This experience made it clear that we should have transitioned her from the crib before she tried to escape. Now, we have a new plan in place for emergencies, including saving my neighbors’ phone numbers. We’ve also set up a comfortable mattress on the floor for Mia to sleep on.
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In summary, don’t wait too long to transition your toddler out of the crib; they might just surprise you with their determination to escape.