This morning, The Boy woke up and started calling for us, the way he usually does. The Mrs and I were in the middle of our slowly-returning-to-the-land-of-the-living rituals when we heard a thump, followed by the unmistakable pitter patter of little feet.
Conrad came running in to the bathroom and slid to a stop, Roadrunner-style, grinning at us with a look that said, “I know I’m probably not supposed to be here, what with having climbed out of the thing you put me in at night that is clearly intended to contain me, but still, you have to admit, it’s pretty cool.”
It was hard to get mad at him, seeing how proud he was of himself. We had a brief, half-hearted discussion about staying in his crib until Mommy or Daddy came to get him. I’ll let you know tomorrow how effective it was.