Note from Mel: We tried "the girl in the laundry basket" but it didn't work out. Do you have any idea how much a decent "bubble" costs now a days? |
I'm a stay-at-home Dad of twins born June 2012 and at this point, we have survived cloth diapers, three double strollers, more kids activities than I care to remember and three semesters of half-day preschool and full-time college... so I promise to continue to try to share our tumultuous and always humorous days with a twisted sense of humor and few traces of compassion.
Wednesday, January 22, 2014
The Journey to Childproofing Our Home...
It
seemed like such a natural progression, since we have had small dogs for many
of years and have segregated them into specific areas of the house with baby
gates their entire existence, I felt confident that we were a few electrical covers
and drawer locks away from baby proofed.
Little did I know that dog proofing and baby proofing were vastly
different, let alone TODDLER proofing. Every
day it seems that Ellison and Henry are growing a bit taller and have expanded
their reach by a few inches. I realize
this in moments such as when the strategically placed open pop can on top of
the side table flew across the room at the hand of Ellison, as I powerlessly
screamed, “nnnoooooo.” There are the
moments when we inquisitively looked at the “thing” in our son’s hand only to
realize that he had been carry around excrement from the dog. Or my personal favorite: when our daughter
realized she can not only reach into the drawer with a previously mentioned
lock, but if she stands on her tippy toes she can help herself to an array of
adult medication. Of course, it all has what should be called adult proof lids
as I have struggled many of days with the ibuprofen lid as my head throbbed
only to surrender it to my husband, yet my 18 month old daughter opened said
lid and began pouring the small pills about the room. Now I may seem as if I am a neglectful mother
but in reality it’s in those vulnerable moments when they attack, the two
seconds you allow yourself to pee, the three seconds you attempt to turn the
meat on the grill or my favorite the milliseconds that you are offering
attention to “the other child.” All and
all I am thinking that the boy in the bubble may have suffered socially, but
his parents were spared many moments of crisis and near catastrophe. -Krista Reichert-Lunny (Mommy)
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