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Magda had the foresight to anticipate complications in Adam’s transition from crib to bed. She thought he might be traumatized by the change, or that he might miss the crib, or feel exposed like a mountaineer bivouacking on an exposed ledge high up on the Eiger Nordwand. I was primarily concerned about what mischief he would get up to with the screwdriver during assembly.

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As it turned out, there was no need to worry, and in fact Adam was terrifically excited by the prospect of graduating to a big-boy bed. Magda prepped him via the IKEA website, checking in with me as to what bedding I was buying and so forth, so that he had reliable mental images by the time I came home. Here’s his new bed, and through the paired annoying miracles of text messages reading, for example, Barnslig rand in blue and Korall Bubblor, and IKEA’s website, Magda and Adam could see my bedding choices in almost-real-time. So by the time I got home Adam was well used to the idea and a bit over-excited to assist with assembly.

  • This bed is in the category of letti estensibili, which means that both headboard and footboard can be lowered to accommodate Adam’s beanpole-like growth, or they can be left up for Procrustean punishments, our choice.
  • Yes, he has already discovered that the head- and footboards make excellent baby launchpads.
  • The top photograph was actually taken in the dark, and the flash did not wake the little monster up.
  • Magda was all saddened at the dismantling of the crib, forgetting apparently that we will be filling it up again all too soon.

Adam’s genuine excitement at having this new bed made all the aqua-ness of its purchase more than worthwhile. The anti-Eiger-ledge-scenario safety bar was sold out, of course, so we have turned to alternate solutions. We loved the idea of Adam being able to clamber out of bed on his own and come padding into our bedroom early in the morning. In practice, our experience has been more oriented toward him howling his way past the wicker linen chest and stomping out into the livingroom at zero-dark-hundred to sit sullenly in front of the blackened television screen waiting for something to happen.