Back to the Crib, Kid

Babysitting Mitchell is usually a game of high-energy antics and last-minute saves, but tonight? Tonight was a championship showdown. The kid’s been cruising in his racecar bed for weeks now, loving life like a NASCAR pro. But when the racecar’s “engine” mysteriously stopped working (thanks to a missing screw I didn’t have time to fix), it was back to the big, sturdy crib—Pit Stop Mitchell was not thrilled.

Setting up the crib felt like gearing up for battle. Mitchell watched the entire operation with a mix of curiosity and rising fury, like he knew exactly what was coming. The second the crib was done, the tantrum hit. Loud. Dramatic. Full-body flailing. Two-year-olds have a way of making a point without using real words—shoutout to the incoherent rage screams. I held firm, though. “Bud, you’re sleeping in this tonight. End of story.” A whole lot of stomping later, he finally gave in. Victory? Sure. But it didn’t come easy.

Before the crib fiasco, there was the pre-bedtime ritual—cue another round of chaos. Diaper changes for a two-year-old are part wrestling match, part strategic negotiation. He bolted the second I mentioned it, zooming around the house, giddy with freedom. After a lap or two, I corralled him back to the changing table. “C’mon, Mitchell, if you want to stay fresh and clean, this is non-negotiable.” With some squirming, giggling, and one particularly bold attempt to escape mid-change, I managed to get the new pamper on. Small win, but I knew the battle wasn’t over yet.

Fast forward a couple of quiet hours. Mitchell was finally asleep in his crib, and I was on the couch savoring the silence like it was made of gold. Then came the cry. Not just any cry—that cry. The “I’m not done with my bottle before bed” cry. Groggily, I dragged myself to the kitchen, warmed up his milk, and tiptoed back to his room. Gently waking a half-asleep Mitchell? Easier said than done. His eyes fluttered open, and although I was met with a pout at first, the bottle quickly solved that problem.

He clutched it, nestling back into his crib with a big sigh, and I thought, maybe this whole crib ordeal wasn’t the disaster he made it out to be. He drifted off again, bottle still in hand, leaving me wondering if I’d just survived or won the ultimate bedtime showdown.

Journal Prompt:

How would you handle Mitchell’s objections to sleeping in a crib again? Would you try to reason with him, offer a compromise, or hold the line? And what about those middle-of-the-night wakeups—how do you stay patient? Share your survival strategies!