In honor of surviving our road trip home, in which Addison endured being strapped into a tiny chair and only screamed bloody murder for an hour or two, this post is about the little things that she can fit into. Simply put, my daughter's three-foot-tall frame is perfect for fitting into tiny places. And it means she's an excellent hider, which my wife wrote about here.
In the first couple days of her life, Addison had to get used to sleeping in the "box," a fun contraption for jaundiced babies.
We also tried sleeping her in an actual box. Because why not? Nothing else was working.
In order to cut transportation costs, we shipped her to and from the relatives. Calm down, she was fine. The peanuts gave her plenty to eat.
She's gotten so comfortable with boxes that she heads straight for this one whenever she's upset. I say, "I can tell you're upset. Why don't you go calm down in your box?"
When she's been especially disobedient, we bind her hands and feet to this Papasan cage, and then tickle them with feathers. Sorry to my readers for any Vietnam flashbacks.
But sometimes Addison turns the tables and puts daddy in a tight spot.
But it's not as bad as it looks. I have a thing for small spaces, too. Me and the Japanese businessmen from Seinfeld. If you look at my Pinterest boards (warning: I still have no idea what Pinterest is really for or how to use it), I've mainly pinned two things: comics from this blog and awesome tiny houses.
And, just to finish things off with a flourish, here's a video of Addison in a box:
*Yes, I did see that news story about the kid who got trapped in a washing machine at a laundromat. Don't be dumb about this, folks.