Usually, a lee cloth is used to keep someone in bed, but in this case, we hoped for the opposite. At first, Helina was thrown off by the lee cloth. Unsure of what to make of it, she left it alone and went back to sleeping peacefully on the floor. Our plan was working perfectly. Or so we thought. Curiosity eventually got the better of her, and after a few nights, she found her way into the bottom bunk
Here is how bedtime now unfolds. After we tuck Helina into bed (or floor) and shut the door, her first order of business is to hop up and switch on her lights (or flick them on and off in rapid succession, while announcing "lights" (or "luz" when she feels like habla-ing español)). At this point, Eric and I usually cut the power to her room, thus ending the light show (we're so mean). Surrounded in darkness, Helina then begins shouting "night-night" with increasing desperation until we respond. I've come to realize that her purpose in doing this has nothing to do with a desire to exchange pleasantries--she is simply manipulating us to giving up our location. Through this verbal exchange, she is able to pinpoint our distance from her room (sort of like baby radar). I know this is what she is doing because as soon as we are a certain distance away, I watch Helina (via the magic of video monitors) make a beeline to the bed and climb up.