workin' the system

I put Lyndon to bed about 45 minutes ago.

The routine is that he gets a story, a prayer and then off the bed. He loves his crib and most nights he joyfully dives into into it happy to go to bed. As I walked near his room (actually it's our closet but that's a different post. FYI: it's a huge walk-in closet with it's own vent and overflowing with coziness. Don't go calling CPS on me just yet.) So I walk by our closet and I hear him giggling happily (as usual) except this time he heard me listening at the door. Out of no where he lets out his cry saying that he is really hurt. I continue to stand there, he continues to cry (that really sad, "I'm hurt, come rescue me" cry.) He has gotten his legs stuck between the bars before so I decide I better go in to investigate because this sounds like what has happened.

I enter the closet.

Is he hurt? Is he stuck?

Far from it.

I assess the situation to find him gleefully shout out, "Mamma!" in a very unstuck and unhurt kind of way.

I proceed to pick him up just to make sure he's fine.

The little rascal just found a way to trick me in to coming in and picking him up!!

He immediately nuzzled his face into my neck and just layed there with both of his arms wrapped tightly around me. There was no way I putting him down while he was doing that!

He knew it, I knew it. We were both happy. I can't believe I was had by a 17 month old.