Climber. Yesterday was a Day To Get Ready--we brought all the stuff from D's infancy down from the attic to prepare for the New Baby. Clothes, including socks too small for an ant, an overpriced alternative to the kitchen sink (also known as a baby bath), and the old standby, an IKEA crib, in pieces.

Those who don't have little kids probably don't realize that, by Federal regulations, the instruction manual for the crib must be ATTACHED to the crib itself. At least it's easy to find. The same cannot be said for the hardware one uses to put the crib together--you know, the official IKEA Allen wrench and screws. Of course, I couldn't remember where I put them.

Once the crib was finally together, we showed it to D; after all, it was his bed once, and it was going to be in his room, so we figured it was best to lay out the concept that "this is the baby's bed" as soon as possible. He seemed to get it.

He must have been nostalgic, though, because around dinnertime I went to wake him up from his nap, and I found that he had climbed up and over the crib railing and was sleeping in the crib, exactly as he did as an infant, no less. He was even lying on his back, which he hasn't done since he was one year old.

There is no force more powerful than regression. I just hope he gets out of adolescence (unlike me).