If there’s one thing Tru hates, it’s being confined. He probably imagines he’s a free spirit, going where the wind takes him. I bet he’d be happiest living in the Amazon forest, without any boundaries. And he can eat all the dirt in the world.
I really wouldn’t mind letting him roam free at home, since I’ve pretty much baby-proofed my house. But ever since we started this morbid game I’d like to call Final Fantasy: Dead or Die Trying, I’ve decided to give myself a little advantage and keep him confined in his cot whenever I needed some mommy time (genius, I know).
Not to be outdone, he’s been plotting his version of Shawshank Redemption for some time now. Believe me, it’s sheer ingenuity. I couldn’t have thought of a better plan if I tried.
At home, there are effectively 2 evil confined spaces – his wooden baby cot and this Graco Pack n Play mobile cot.
Here’s the master plan.
He has identified the weakest points in both these contraptions and has started EATING his way out of it. I kid you not.
Good thing I’m on to his little scheme, which only happened due to a stroke of luck one afternoon. He usually screams for dear life the moment I put him into the cot, but this time, he just sat down without any fuss and pretended to play with his Care Bear. I should have noticed the glint in his eye, but I didn’t, so I mistook his silence for maturity. Big mistake. Five minutes later, I heard a strange scratchy noise coming from the bedroom so I snuck a peek.
Lo and behold, he was furiously biting away at the mesh netting at the side of his mobile cot like a deranged beaver. I swear his next step was to grind his Care Bear into a scalpel and cut his way to freedom.
Curious, I proceeded to inspect his wooden cot and there was a row of bite marks on the bars. In fact, he had practically gnawed off the top layer of wood. I only hope he had the good sense to spit out the fragments.
When he finally breaks free, I’ll have no choice but to buy a metal cot, but I’m pretty sure he’ll eat his way out of that as well.