Cold Feet

So, determined to stick with my plan,
I let the baby fall asleep in my bed,
with the intent to carry her into her crib.
Baby steps.
I placed my hands under her to lift her,
and stopped,
as a giant pit appeared, out of nowhere, in my stomach.
I burst into tears.
“I can’t do it! It’s too soon! She’s grown up tooooooooo fast!”
Or something like that.
My husband laughed and told me that if I moved the baby into her crib he would give me a Twix bar.
I tried again.
I told myself, over and over, that this move was in her best interest; that allowing the baby to sleep in her own crib in her own room would be the greatest thing for her.
And so, I slid my hands under her sleeping body and lifted her, making sure to nuzzle her into my chest just enough so that she’d feel secure and stay asleep.
And, it worked.
Until, three steps into my journey, true to form, I could no longer walk.
This was not just another case of the crazies.
I actually couldn’t walk.
You see, my earlier in the evening, my feet were feeling particularly cold, so I put on my cozy, knit slippers with my flannel PJs.
Apparently, one of the fuzzy balls on my right slipper got caught on the wheels of the portable crib, and I was stuck;
sleeping baby in my arms,
foot in my slipper,
slipper trapped in my crib wheel.
Of course.
My husband tried to slide my foot out of the slipper, in order to free to me so that I could complete my journey, but no such luck. I was really, truly stuck. 7 hours or a few minutes later he finally managed to untangle me, and I managed to place the baby down in her crib.
Hmmmmmm…
this gives me an idea……….
what if I just so happened to check on her,
and just so happened to be wearing my fuzzy slippers with the little balls,
and just so happened to get my slipper stuck in one of the crevices of her crib….
if that were to accidentally happen, somehow, then I would be forced to spend the night in the baby’s room with her, wouldn’t I?
Just thought I’d check!

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