Baby #2 Proofing
When Noble, or baby #1 as we shall refer to him in this post, was born, we were quite diligent with baby proofing. We had gates set up, we had outlets plugged, we had cupboards taken care of, we made our house the ultimate safety zone.
When Alistair, or ‘second child’ as the IRS knows him, was born, we found ourselves a little less diligent. The only thing we made positively safe were the outlets. Everything else has been a ‘protect as you go’ situation.
Now that Alistair is walking around, I have a routine that I do in the morning that establishes the house as a safe zone. I make sure the bathroom doors are closed (to prevent the insatiable need to swirl his hand in the toilet bowl water), I pull a couple of blinds up (that he otherwise has, and would, rip down), I bring two chairs to block a big vase we have in the dining room. And then I do a once over for choking hazards.
Some people like to take all the kitchen drawers and cupboards and put baby proof locky deals on them. And they should get high fives, or coupons for free yogurt somewhere, or like 5 cents off gas or something. Personally, this time around, when it comes to baby proofing drawers and cupboards, I prefer to do one of three things:
1) Use one of Gayle’s hair thingies instead. Yeah, thingies. Why, what do YOU call them? Wrap it around twice and that cupboard is sealed.
2) Let him pull out whatever is in the drawer, or cupboard and hope that it’s not made of glass. Or, if it is made of glass, hope that he doesn’t break it. Or, if he does break it, hope that he doesn’t step on it with his bare feet. Or, if he steps on it with his bare feet, hope that the blood doesn’t get on anything upholstered.
3) Stop him from getting into the cupboard by yelling, “NO!” and/or pick him up. 98% of the time, this one is followed by a 10 minute meltdown/tantrum.
Really, it gets to be a huge pain in the ass to follow a kid around and “no” them into feeling like their house is a big prison. I think to myself, how would I like it if I went to a museum, or an art gallery, and every time I got close to something, there’d be a nag waiting to say, “no touch!” Hmmm, bad example….that happens all the time. I guess what I’m trying to say is that being the nag is not fun. And neither is being the guy on the phone with poison control. And neither is hovering over a kid and redirecting him all the time. And neither is watching a child lick and bite the bottom part of a broom that was just used to clean up kitty litter and the kitchen floor….
So I think we need to have some middle ground. Here is ours: Enjoy your tupperware my little man. Throw and bite and nibble and smash to your hearts content!