High Centered

At 7:25 this morning (after already having gotten up three times with the little man), I was lying in my bed listening to W crawl around on the floor.  He suddenly started to cry, then scream, then really scream.  I shot up out of my bed envisioning in my half-awake, half-comatose mind the dresser on top of him or his fingers smashed in a door, only to discover he had managed to high center himself on a basket.  Now, I am trying to raise a confident, problem-solving, independent child here.  But a basket?!  The poor kid couldn't push himself through the handle and over the basket any further, but the handle was blocking the reverse motion as well.   Stuck.

W was more than a little distressed at the situation, and, as the cruel mother that I am, I had to laugh and take a picture before rescuing him.