a crib. re-born.

Otto is three.

He was a baby.

Now he’s not.

Last week he graduated from the crib in which he had been sleeping his entire young life to an official “big boy” bed.  (Generously given to him by our friends.  Thanks Sunshine!)

(I mean, he’s giving out interviews left and right these days.  I guess he deserves a bed for that handsome big boy golden head of his.)

Tucking my Fox into his big boy bed meant there was an unnecessarily large piece of furniture in the corner of the boys already Lego-crowded room.

It had to go.

And I’m not one to let furniture rearranging needs sit around for very long.  I like to hustle right to those tasks.

Forget the laundry.  Who cares what we eat for dinner.  I don’t have time to brush the kids’ teeth.

But a room has excess furniture?

I’m on it!

The crib has seen so many sweet Keigley heads.

But even the thrift store won’t take it because it is old and features plastic tabs and sides that lower, whatever that means in the world of child safety.

Besides, I don’t like tossing furniture that looks useful to me.  I like recycling, re-purposing, re-everythinging.

I dragged all of the white woodenness out to the lawn.

It looked ….. rough.

But I had a vision.

(And a couple of cans of red spray paint, some $1 burlap sacks and an empty spot on our porch.)

It took me about three days to spray paint the entire crib – goodness there were a lot of slats.

But eventually, my task was complete.

I dragged everything back up to the porch, reassembled the beast and tried to create a little porch magic.

I know it’s just an old crib that now resembles a newly painted old crib.

I know that.

And I know it’s on my porch.

And a crib on a porch is a little kooky.  Or something.

But I’m telling you – kooky felt pretty comfortable this afternoon when I was reading history with the kids in the breezy post-lunch hour.