In one afternoon Asher got out of a nap, out of his pants, out of a diaper, and out of his crib.
The nap was first interrupted when he took off his pull-up and pooped in his crib. After that he had to go in his mom-made-hobo-poop-pants-jammies (the only way to even have a shot a him not stripping down to nakedness and peeing and pooping at his leisure).
Karen and I were sitting downstairs, listening to Asher jibber jabber and laugh, then we heard a loud "thump". We said to each other, "What could that have been?" and went back to talking. But then there was more hysterical laughter and lots of noise so Karen went up to check on Ash, and was greeted at the door by our little jailbird. He had bailed out of his crib, dumped the water from his humidifier on the carpet, tried to hide the evidence by emptying a book bin onto the puddle, and was dancing around like a lunatic.
This weekend we shop for a bed.
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