Hatchling woke up at the unheard of hour of 7 a.m. this morning. I know, I know, lots of you moms out there get up at 6 to breastfeed or shower or whatever, but at my house, Mommy doesn't get up before 8 unless there is fire, vomit, or chocolate gravy involved. Seriously.

I got up, gave H a cup of milk, some books, and opened his shades so he could entertain himself. Then, I went back to bed. About 730 he started hollering, so I determined that I was going to have to get up after all. Blasted kid. Do I really want another one? (yes)

As I threw the comforter back and uncurled from my delightfully warm bed, I noticed that the sound of Hatchling's cries were coming closer. That's right. Closer. Do you realize what that means?

He. Climbed. Out. Of. His. Crib.

Uh huh. I met him in the living room, checked to make sure he was intact, and went to tell his daddy the news. The days of caging him are over. If this means that I have to get up before 8 everyday, then someone's going to pay.