Grandparents-in-training

It's not like we haven't been grandparents for, oh, a year now, but we came up against an immovable (literally) object this weekend.

With an early morning tee time in a golf tournament looming, it was decided for the grandest granddaughter to bring her parents and come spend the night before. That way, Miss Emily could get her sleep... well, everyone could get their sleep. Our house not holding the requisite baby items beyond blankets, books, and soft toys, we borrowed a version of a pack'n'play, or portable crib.

Right out of its carrying case, it practically set itself up, springing to life and only needing me to put the floorboard in and cover it with a crib sheet, circa 1978. (I knew it would pay off to save some of those things.) She slept just fine, the girls had a wonderful day while the guys played at golf, and they high-tailed it back to the Big City by mid-afternoon.

It was time to gather the scattered goodies and reset the house. The high chair was cleaned and put back into the store room. The towels were gathered, the bathroom reordered, and then it was time to take down the crib.

Out came the floorboard, up came the floor, and then it was push the button time. The side rails wouldn't move to collapse. They didn't even look like they were willing to collapse. I knew they could do it; that was their previous condition. I pushed the button again and pulled up, pushed down. No dice. Reread the instructions on the bottom of the crib. Found the paper instructions. Called Granddaddy.

He couldn't do it either. Called the owner of said stubborn crib which was taking up way too much room now that granddaughter was gone. She repeated what we'd read and promised to stop by after church the next day if we hadn't conquered it. We left it in frustration. Consulted other grandparents that night to find out that there was indeed a trick to it: holding your mouth just right as the cribs were notoriously hard to deal with.

We felt better, but still had a crib up. After church, our friend drops by, surveys the situation and pops it down in all of five seconds. Seems there are two buttons per side, one on the outside (which we never found or thought to look for) and one on the in (which pushing by itself will not yield results).

Given the pace at which baby conveniences have outstripped our knowledge, this doesn't bode well for the future. But we'll file this away and look for two buttons from now on.