I'm Lindsay Ferrier, a Nashville writer with a passion for family travel, exploring Tennessee, and raising kids without losing my mind in the process. This is where I share my discoveries, along with occasional deep thoughts, pop culture tangents and a sprinkling of snark. Want to get in touch? Use the CONTACT form at the top of the page.
June 24, 2008
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Getting Bruiser up from a nap requires that I first make a quick sweep of the kitchen and den, the two fully child-proofed rooms where he can wander and wreak havoc at will.
I set up gates in the doorways, put all items on the table in its center, where he can’t reach them, check for items he might choke on that may have fallen on the floor, put a hairband around the French doors that lead to our sunroom, close the bathroom door, close the kitchen pantry door, and put my laptop up on our mantle.
If any of these things are forgotten (and generally, one or two are), Bruiser has a sixth sense that allows him to make a millisecond sweep of a room when he enters it and find the one thing that’s out of place- the one thing he shouldn’t touch. I put him down and he runs to it. If it’s small, he pops it in his mouth. If it’s an open doorway, he runs through it. It’s maddening.
But yesterday, all my months of begging and shouting and pleading and loud-talking finally paid off. I brought Bruiser down from the playroom, where he’d been sleeping in his swing, and as I carried him into the kitchen, he spied the open pantry door.
“Nnnnnnooooooo!” he said, pointing. “Nooo, noo,NO!” Quickly, I closed it. “Good job, Bruiser!” I said, surprised. “That door shouldn’t have been open!”
Next, I went into the den with Bruiser on my hip. “Nooooo!” he squealed, pointing at the open bathroom door. “Noooooo! NNNNNOOOO!”
“Awesome!” I said excitedly. “This door should have been closed, too! That’s right!”
Later, I let Punky through the swinging childproof gate to get up to our playroom and forgot to close it. This is a particularly dangerous hazard for 15-month-old Bruiser, since there’s a ledge and a steep step down before going up the staircase leading to the room. As I was making lunch at the kitchen counter, I heard him babbling worriedly. After a moment, I looked up and saw him standing at the open gate, pointing at it and looking at me anxiously, trying to get my attention.
Miraculously, something has finally clicked in that bulbous baby head of his! One month ago, Bruiser would have rushed headlong toward that opened gate, fallen over the ledge, and injured himself. Now, he waits and points and lets me know that I need to close it.
And I’m having a quiet personal celebration right now, because as hard as raising a small, inquisitive, extremely noisy boy with a vise-like grip is, yesterday, it got just a little bit easier.
This post originally appeared on Parents.com.
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