How does he turn himself all about while sleeping? I hear his little talking and go in to get him, and what do I find? A sideways baby, with a grin the size of the Mississippi - he is as pleased as punch with himself, as if he knows he's not supposed to be doing this.
Time to get a bumper. And a thick, padded one. Otherwise, he'll end up with the "breathable mesh" imprints all over his noggen, and not just the lines from the crib. It kind of looks like the red marks people get when they sleep in church by leaning their heads onto the pew in front of them.
But it might be Voodoo. See the sock monkey in the bottom of the picture? He was all turned sideways too.... Conspiracy? Hmm. You tell me.
"Are we not the framers of our own destiny? Are we not the arbitrators of our fate? . . . It is our privilege to determine our own exaltation or degradation; it is our privilege to determine our own happiness or misery in the world to come." John Taylor
"We have committed the Golden Rule to memory; now let us commit it to life."