We bought my son a little bed for Christmas. I mean, a little bed. I didn't know they made beds this small. You buy the frame and put the crib mattress on it.

You see, my son is a climber and we realized that it wouldn't be long before he was leaving his crib on his own. He has conquered many, many things in the house. He has been to the top of Reclineryama and nearly off the back a couple of times. Mount Windowsill has been no challenge and in fact, he's been in a couple of them. The next time I download pics off my camera, I'll show you one.

Don't tell my wife.

For the most part, we are on the same page about how to raise our young alpinist. On things like balancing on top of a ball, that was placed on a Tonka truck, that's resting on several stacks of multi-colored blocks, which were put on a chair, so that he can reach the knife set, we differ. She thinks that he should be immediately removed from the danger. I, on the other hand, think that a picture should be taken first.

"Hang on son, forgot to charge the battery!"

He's been on the table, on the counter, on the dog, and shows no sign of this being a quick little phase. Getting out of the crib was inevitable and we just hoped he would wait until Christmas.

You know I wouldn't be writing this if such a thing had happened. I'm lying in bed the other night and I hear the thud. Sure enough, out my son comes. Thinking that this is a possible fluke, I put him back. Maybe he somehow managed to get all the planets in alignment for just that moment. Kids are like that sometimes. They'll do something and you won't see it again for weeks. Not this time. He was screaming about how pissed he was to be going to bed and then thunk. Mind you, it's two hours past his normal bed time so he really had nothing to that mad about.

We take his mattress out and put it in on the floor. Time to start the new training and keep himself from eventually hurting himself. I put him in his new make-shift bed and close the door. He is still so angry that he's making all kinds of rabid animal sounds.

Thank goodness he hasn't figured out how to get enough leverage on a doorknob yet to actually get it open.

Never let it be said that God does not have a sense of humor.

The doorknob rattled a bit and click, the door opened. Perhaps a fluke. Yes, I am a little slow but I prefer to call it "hopeful".

I put him back and close the door. Sure enough, he opens it.

I'm a man and a problem solver. That means that I have access to Home Depot supplies and I'm not afraid to use them.

A little bit of duct tape and whammo, problem solved.