The day is finally here. It’s the day that the crib comes down. Forever. After constant use for the last eight and a half years, it’s done. Naturally photographs needed to be taken.
It’s a bit sad. Well, more weird than sad, really. What’s sad is just tossing that crib that I love so much, even though to probably anyone else it’s a beat up old crib with chew marks and booger stains.
I’m happy too, though. This crib has served us well. Four babies slept, rarely through the night, in there. One baby climbed out of there faster than I could ever understand. Another baby would lay in there “reading” books to himself. Other babies have screamed to get out of that crib before their eyes were barely open. My girl baby would tuck her own little baby dolls into that crib.
I’ve leaned over that crib to pick up a sad baby so many hundreds of times, holding them over my shoulder and rubbing their soft little backs, or carrying them with me to my bed instead, so we could both get a little more sleep.
I’ve picked up the blankets they’ve thrown out, pushed tiny limbs back through the rails, and taken countless pictures of little bums sticking up in the air.
Farewell good Crib. I’ll miss you. Or I won’t. Not sure yet.