Last night Robbie work up around 10:45.  I just heard fussing at first and figured he would go back to sleep.  But the cries got louder.  And more insistent.  Since Justin had just walked through the door after a three-day business trip, I figured Robbie just wanted to see his dad.  Justin and I slowly made our way up stairs.

The cries for me started to get a little louder as we neared the top of the staircase.  When I peered into his room, I couldn’t see Robbie anywhere.  And then I heard him.  He cried, “Door, Mama!  Tent!”  All of a sudden it was clear.  The poor kid was locked in his tent!

I’m not quite sure how it happened.  When I checked on him, he had fallen asleep inside the tent: reclined on his stuffed animals, feet stuck out the entrance, balloon clasped in his hand.  At some point, he must have pulled his feet in, allowing the flaps to close and velcro to seal.

Let’s be honest.  I’m not sure what it says about my kid that he didn’t even try to push the “door” to his tent open.  In an effort not to repeat the disaster, particularly because it resulted in Robbie being awake until midnight and enduring half an hour of screaming, I turned the tent around.  The other side lets me tie the flap, providing an easy escape for a panicked toddler.  Because, yes, he still insists on having the tent in his crib.