They both refuse to be contained. I confess, when he escaped earlier in the week from his bed, he was in a Pack n Play. So logically, we, like BP, were hopeful our next solution would work: move him into Caroline's room (which was the original plan that got delayed) and put him in her crib now that she's in a big girl bed. Yes?
Apparently, falling 3 feet didn't deter him one bit. Caroline even was hopeful. "Don't worry, Daddy," she said as Dawit howled from his crib. "I'll calm him down." So for an hour, the sequence of events went like this: Dawit crying, Caroline saying, "It's okay." Thump. Feet, feet, feet. Caroline at top of stairs, "Owie got out!" Dawit right behind her, preparing to descend the stairs. Scoop 'em up. Back to bed. Repeat.
After about the 30th jump, he finally quit coming into the hall. He'd jump, stand by his bed with a defeated look and wait for one of us to plop him back in bed. We're calling it the extinction plan. It's one of us standing quietly in the hall waiting for the thump so we can make a quick intercept. At some point, it became me sitting at the top of the stairs with my laptop, googling crib tents.
Praise joy! It's nearly 7 a.m. and not a peep from either of the roommates.