Crib.

A million and one years ago (it seems), m* and I drove out to the Intercourse area (really) and took a good look at a lot of furniture. We went from store to store on this beautiful summer day, all rosy-cheeked and excited. (It was a my second trimester, see. The one where energy is good and excitement is high and, if this is your first pregnancy, as was mine, you are blissfully unaware of what your life is about to turn into.) We came home with a crib, or at least the receipt for one that would be crafted just for us.

I remember the day so well. The drive was so pretty and we had such fun together. This was our first major baby-related purchase and I just walked around every store with my hand on my belly, feeling my baby kicking and delighting in the process of building his room. From there, we went to the Organic Mattress Store (there really is such a place) and picked out a crib mattress and a wool mattress pad. They threw in a softie little turtle for good measure. A few weekends after that, in the pouring rain, we went to a now-defunct monthly estate furniture sale. This tiny storage space on the Main Line, tucked behind a little strip of stores, packed to the walls with random and rare pieces of furniture. After serpentining through the narrow walkway and finding nothing that really suited us, we were just about to leave when we spied this knotty pine dresser, underneath some boxes in a far corner. And so with that, and the addition of our handed-down glider, a bedroom was born.

This little room with the green walls and the striped curtains became our baby’s first space. His little place. A beautiful, handcrafted crib, the mattress inside it and the sheets to go on it. An unfinished bookshelf that m* painted. The dresser, its drawers carved with seashells. Blankets. A mobile. A tiny little Sox cap. I loved his room. I loved it still.

A month ago, he finally announced that he was ready for a “big boy” bed. And so the process of re-visioning this space began. His mattress was moved to the floor and a new blanket was added to accommodate for his growing, long body. He got a pillow. And a new night light. Today — right after I hit “publish” in fact — I am driving back out to that cute little store in that cute little town to pick up the conversion rails for the crib, that were handcrafted by one Amish guy in his workshop. I love how his space is turning into something that suits his evolving self.

Tomorrow, his crib will be a toddler bed. Eventually, it will become a boy’s bed. And after that, a man’s bed. This simple piece of rough-hewn oak, changing and morphing into one thing after another, taking shape as he grows.

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