Isabelle didn't want to go to sleep last night. She took a micro-nap at 8 pm, after spending an hour or so fussing and fuming, then she just didn't want to go to sleep for real.
So I was on my bed, pillows strategically placed all around in an impenetrable fort so the lovely little lady wouldn't roll off. I was reading Stormy Weather by Carl Hiaasen (sp?). I got into at one point and fussy girl was rolling around, playing with toys and complaining, then - whump whump sliiiiiiiide thump WAAAAAAAAAAAAAA - she managed to fall off the bed in the 5 inch space between the bed and the dresser, after wedging herself up into a space that she couldn't really roll herself into, but had somehow kicked and wiggled her way there.
I leaped to her rescue and slid her out of the spot (it was like the dresser and bed were giving birth - there was her angry angry face staring at me, shouting as I moved aside the cord (she managed to take down DH's alarm clock) and eeeeeased her shoulders through) and she wasn't hurt, just scared.
Then afterwards, it was one of those awful times when, as a parent, you try really hard to not laugh or to wish that you had your camera handy. Because that would be a great shot and I could have captioned it a la I Can Haz Cheezburger. But now, I will have to try not to laugh when I tell people about this, won't I? Oh, too late.
So now we're up to 3 falls from the bed. SIGH.
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