Now I am firmly of the opinion that children should be shoehorned into their cot for as long as humanly possible or until they learn to escape.
At two years old I thought we still had a fair while before we transferred Amy from the cot to a big girls bed. That was until my DH phoned me in the middle of town to announce that he had purchased a bed plus mattress for Amy and it was being delivered that afternoon.
As Amy is likely to be my last child a tiny part of me, well, okay a rather large, quivering part of me wanted to cling desperately onto the last strands of her babyhood.
Que me rushing to get home before the bed and forgetting 99% of the stuff I went into town for in the first place. We remembered the balloon animal tiger that the clowns were selling in the street today. Most important thing I think you'll understand.
I get home and five minutes later two men man handle a ready-made up bed into my hallway where they refused to take it upstairs and told me I would have to dismantle it and do it myself. I really didn't fit in the hallway so at the risk of eyes being gouged out it had to move.
Several sweaty hours, scratched walls and swear words later I manage to get the bed upstairs and reassembled in Amy's room. After having dismantled the cot. It looks odd and Amy's room is now teeny tiny. I had to rearrange the furniture to fit it in. Oh and on a positive note Amy has learnt to say 'Oh c**p!'
I was all geared up for a terrible evening attempting to keep Amy in her new bed via the use of bungee straps. But the little stinker was out like a light!