The Beav

Almost fifteen months ago, my Mom and Dad generously bought us a brand spankin' new crib. We knew this crib would be our little girl's bed for the next couple of years and therefore spent a fair amount of time shopping around.  After inspecting various wood samples and ultimately choosing the Espresso for it's resistance to scratches, we couldn't have been happier with what was possibly the finest piece of furniture in the house.  We ran right out and registered for the softest, cutest, and most cuddly bedding we could get our hands on.  G's crib was ready and waiting for her months before she made her arrival.  

Charming, huh?

Much to our chagrin, Grace couldn't care less about the color of the wood or the era of the Winnie the Pooh characters on her bumpers.  It was obvious that Grace wasn't a super huge fan of the crib right off the bat.  She spent those first few months glaring at us through the slats of her decadently luxurious crib, wishing us nothing short of a painful death in return for leaving her in this 'baby jail'.  When Grace was old enough to pull herself up to standing, the terror began.  Total crib domination.  If we wouldn't let her out, she'd chew her way out. 

Our Little Beaver <3

Kind of looks like she's keeping a tally of something.  Probably something like "Amount of times those jerks put me in this hell hole".

 Guess I should have invested in a chew guard.  Grace - 1.  Mom - 0.