Taking Max Out of the Crib

She unbuilt the carons, stone by stone, pushing each one into the pockets of the waiting coat. She could have taken him out of the crib. As things stood, it was only if the legs rotted and it crashed to the floor where the house burned or blew over or fell apart that he'd ever be free from it. But more days passed, and slowly her mind started to change. The pro was too big. She had no power over it. However, this thing worked. For the sake of argument, say she went back. And in the crib, at least he'd be safe - but from what?