I was doing a few things in the kitchen today (probably something to do with dishes... there is always something to do with dishes...), when I heard Tucker start fussing in another room. His fussing turned to soft crying, which quickly grew to louder crying, which sent me on a search for him.
It wasn't easy to find him - it took me just a bit longer than he would have hoped, I am sure.
When I found him, he was in the bathroom, with his head wedged in between the bathroom sink and the wall. And I mean, wedged.
(I thought of getting the camera to take his picture to post for posterity, but he was so frantic that I thought better of it. This post would have been much more interesting with some photo journalism, but I would have needed to sacrifice my Mommy Card.)
He was so snug in there, I have to tell you. I thought for a moment I might need to break out the canister of Crisco and grease him up... or at the very least, we might need to call Daddy for moral support and advice.
It was one of those situations where I had to hurt him in order to help him. I pushed him back toward the wall, into the corner, where we had about a half-centimeter more space, just enough to dislodge him. Then I helped him bow down to get underneath to get out, until he was finally free.
The whole thing was pretty traumatic for him, and he required lots of cuddling in the aftermath. I am hopeful he won't try it again, but he's funny about stuff like that: if he did it once and it hurt, he seems curious to try it again, just to see if it will hurt as badly the second time.