Well, this afternoon I came home from work and dismantled our grandson Asher’s crib, to replace it with a “big boy” bed inherited from his cousin Christopher, who is moving into a bunk bed (which I spent several hours assembling yesterday evening … ooh, my aching paws and whiskers :P)
Asher is 5-1/2 by the calendar (but much younger in some ways); we had kept him in his crib because he moves around a lot in his sleep, and we didn’t want him falling out of bed. But the “new” bed is quite low, so he shouldn’t come to too much harm. Besides, the crib is getting pretty battered; he was its third active tenant.
What possible relevance does this have in this forum … well, the new bed is lavishly decorated with Thomas and his fellow lokies … ah yes, folks, we get 'em young 
As for “milestone”: well, Asher was about five days old when an alert doctor picked up on serious heart/lung damage, and they told us the odds were heavily against him making it to five weeks. They got him down to Sick Kids in Toronto, where a newly arrived surgeon decided to buck the odds and mended the heart and tangled arteries … but still the odds were against Asher making it to five months (without the surgery, he would have had no chance at all) … he finally returned to Ottawa after the SARS lockdown in Toronto was eased, and spent most of another year in hospital here, much of the time strapped down to prevent him from ripping out the air lines, monitor wires, feeding and IV tubes.
He has lived with grandma and me for most of the time since (for varied and often painful reasons); when he first came home they told us that five years was the next big hurdle … if he made it that far and grew, the chances would be better …
So here we are; he’s still fed by gastric tube because he forgot how to suck and swallow in those first fearful months (and came to resist having anything put in his mouth), and his heart and lungs will always be iffy; although he is a solid-looking little boy, the valley of the shadow haunts us constantly.
But he’s going into a big-boy bed, albeit still in our room so we can hear him in the night, and he wants to see trains running in the backyard … grandpa had better get busy 
(ironically, of course, having to look after Asher is one reason why grandpa has never had enough time to do much with trains).
I’m with you, Chris…
Fred
Amazing what they can do these days.
We used to put a pillow under Ethan’s bottom sheet so it’d be an uphill roll to fall out of bed. We also had this gigantic, toddler size, soft, cuddly teddy bear. It was known as the “crash teddy.” You can guess the reason.
Tom Ruby said:Back when Asher lived on the ward at CHEO, they put him on a slanted mattress so his head would always be higher than his tummy. Wedged him in with blanket rolls, pillows ... no sooner did the little **** gain enough strength to move himself (it took a while) than he'd shimmy over the barriers and down to the flat bit at the bottom of the crib. The nurses would pull him back up, down he'd go again (and get all the wires and lines royally tangled). He didn't, and doesn't, like non-flat sleeping accommodations, or being "tied down" with tucked-in blankets; pillows, blankets, bears or whatever get kicked overboard, instanter. Being an stubborn little cuss is one of the things that kept him alive, I think. Living in a bed (and often tied down) for that first year and a half, he never developed the interest in toys that most children acquire in those months. His thing is books, because grandma and I visited him every day and read to him (yup, Thomas, among other things). Even if he was asleep, he knew we were there. You have to love experts. One suggested gently (and condescendingly) that I was not reading "age appropriate" material to Asher; lady, he doesn't care [u]what[/u] I'm reading ... he cares [u]that[/u] I'm reading to him. And frankly (IMO), the Rev. Awdrey and Beatrix Potter could write rings around the appropriate authors. Yes, I read him the books that my mother read to me and my siblings, and I read to my daughters (and all of us learned to read properly before we reached school age). Asher loved 'em. It became evident soon enough that he was beginning to read for himself -- that is, recognizing a word here, a word there, then a few more, the way children will when they are read to regularly (especially when it's the same favorite book over and over). "It's just the ("silly old" left unsaid, but clearly hanging in the air) grandparents' wishful thinking," sniffed another "development expert". Wishful, smishful; Asher see, Asher say. "Well, he might repeat the words, but he doesn't comprehend them." Fuddle duddle, as a certain prime minister famously remarked. "Wead, gwampa," is the order I get every evening (these days, his favorites are Diego and Dora). "Why don't you read to grandpa?" "No, gwampa wead!" (He has trouble with some Rs and Ls because his palate is a bit misshapen, another effect of the syndrome that mucked his heart and lungs about).
We used to put a pillow under Ethan's bottom sheet so it'd be an uphill roll to fall out of bed.
I should state that we have been incredibly lucky with Asher. Most, maybe all, of the other children in Ottawa afflicted with his syndrome are far worse off, with severe, unrepairable physical and mental deformity. My heart goes out to the families who have to deal with that tragedy. Our troubles are minuscule by comparison, and we are able to hope for better days.
Congrats to you and Asher on reaching this big milestone, and God bless you!
Ray Dunakin said:Amen
Congrats to you and Asher on reaching this big milestone, and God bless you!
Ethan slept on the flat, just had a hill to get over to get out of the bed. The crash teddy laid on the floor at the foot of the bed. Caleb slept on the top bunk and had heavy metal bars to keep from falling out. Sometimes he whang them in the night. “Ow! He’ll have a bruise from that.” Never did get a bruise. Susan used to laugh about his “Aerobic Sleep.”
I loved reading to Caleb and Ethan. As toddlers, they’d sit in my lap and let me read to them. I even read them the 7 Narnia books. Over and over and over…
Ethan was funny how he learned to read. Well into 1st grade, he was still mostly reciting books. Also, he wrote his name with pencil streaks. The teacher said, “He knows everything he needs to read, but he’s not quite developed enough. One of these days, he’ll suddenly start reading.” One Sunday afternoon we were “reading” the book from school. Monday evening, he read a book to me.
I saw the teacher Tuesday Evening. “Isn’t it fun?” she asked. “I love when they do that. Watch, he’ll start writing just as suddenly.”
A couple days later, he started carefully forming the letters in his name instead of making pencil streaks.
Tom Ruby said:One of our grand-daughters, Serenity, used to draw squiggles to "write" when she was four. I still have a note she gave me. It had a series of squiggles and a lopsided little heart. She told me, "It says, 'I love you grandpa and I'm giving you kisses.'" Then she pointed to the heart and said, "It's a kissy heart." :)
A couple days later, he started carefully forming the letters in his name instead of making pencil streaks.
Kids – you gotta love 'em!