Houdini / by Susie Lubell

The night before last my daughter woke me up at 3am moaning for me. It was kind of a muffled maaaawmy...maaaaawmy...I finally hauled my 600 pound ass out of bed (that's how heavy my ass feels at 3am. Like I might need a forklift). I walk into her room and see her head and half her body is under my son's bed. She's stuck under there. She's basically unconscious so you can see how it would be difficult to shimmy backwards in that state. How did you she get in there? Good question. Their beds are catty-corner. His bed is in the corner of the room and her mattress is against the back wall, flush with his, but on the floor. They make an L or a lower case R. So there's a space where she might be able to crawl under his bed. But why she scoots herself in there while she's sleeping is a mystery. Anyway, I pulled her out and put her back in her bed and since she was asleep this whole time there was no protest. And I hauled myself back to bed.

Last night, same thing. Only when I went into their room, she was missing. And just as panic was setting in I took a breath and realized I could still hear her mommy moaning. I waved my hand under my son's bed and came in contact with a xylophone, a roll of butcher paper, grandma's neck pillow, a stack of puzzles and a tool box but no toddler. But I could hear her in there.

Now, just so we all understand, this is a twin bed (with a lot of large items stored underneath). It's not a queen or a king. I finally get on my belly and really reach my whole arm under the bed where I feel her leg. She has inched herself all the way over to the wall, navigating between the aforementioned obstacles. I can't really comprehend how it's all possible. I decide at 3am that she must have magical powers beyond my tired imagination. I pull her out, put her back in her bed and barricade what we now refer to as the crawl space.