"This is such an eye-opener. I always pictured the kids dying in the living room."
I like to think I’m pretty good at childproofing our home. I’ve had two-and-a-half years practice thanks to Abbie. She’s a monkey, scaling furniture like a mountain climber reaching for the summit of those bubbles I put out of her reach. I could make money renting her out to prospective parents to point out all of the dangerous things their child can and will get into. By now, I’ve successfully hidden everything I don’t want her to play with on the one ledge in the house that she can’t reach. There is absolutely nothing left for her younger brothers to play with.
Or so I thought. It turns out childproofing is child-specific. Some kids will ignore a frayed extension cord sparking its way across the bathroom floor. Other kids will learn how to smelt their own copper just to have something conductive for jamming in an electrical outlet.
The first thing the boys discovered that Abbie didn’t is the toilet.* Until she developed the skill to climb on the toilet, she mostly stayed out of the bathroom unless I was in there. In those pre-twin days, I could leave the bathroom open and be confident that she’d stay in her room innocently ripping apart books.
The boys, though, think the toilet seat is the greatest toy in the house, much better than anything requiring batteries. I have to keep the bathroom door closed or else they’ll immediately dart in there and start playing with the seat. They lift it, and slam it down; lift it, and let it fall; lift it, and smash someone’s fingers. On those occasions when the boys must be in the bathroom, such as during teeth brushings, I have to keep my foot on the seat to keep them from injuring their fingers. Plus the toilet is possibly the most disgusting location in the house, and I don’t want them to catch whatever germs just moved through my gut and are currently churning their way through mommy’s gut.
Without access to the bathroom, the boys might move into the kitchen, which I thought I child-proofed long ago. We have locks on the cabinets, a lock on the refrigerator, and covers on the oven knobs. I thought there was nothing left for the boys to get into.
Then they got into a cabinet. The locks I put on the cabinets came in packs of two, but we have an odd number of cabinets. Instead of shelling out for an extra lock we didn’t need, I left the most innocuous cabinet unlocked. It held dishtowels and other harmless objects, and Abbie ignored it.
The boys, however, found this one unlocked cabinet great fun. It held dishtowels to strew about the floor, plus a fire extinguisher that I forgot about. That thing was great for poking, watching it rock back and forth, and trying to make it land on the other one’s fingers.
Since I’m still too cheap to spring for another package of locks, I moved the lock from a harder-to-reach cabinet onto their favorite cabinet. Now the boys can’t play in any kitchen cabinets unless I move our portable dishwasher. Of course, I have to move the dishwasher every day to wash the dishes, so while it’s in use I need to watch the boys closely. They’re sneaky about opening the vulnerable cabinet while I’m in the living room pulling Abbie off the furniture.
* In fact, she still hasn’t figured out what the toilet is for besides providing entertainment when it flushes.
Or so I thought. It turns out childproofing is child-specific. Some kids will ignore a frayed extension cord sparking its way across the bathroom floor. Other kids will learn how to smelt their own copper just to have something conductive for jamming in an electrical outlet.
The first thing the boys discovered that Abbie didn’t is the toilet.* Until she developed the skill to climb on the toilet, she mostly stayed out of the bathroom unless I was in there. In those pre-twin days, I could leave the bathroom open and be confident that she’d stay in her room innocently ripping apart books.
The boys, though, think the toilet seat is the greatest toy in the house, much better than anything requiring batteries. I have to keep the bathroom door closed or else they’ll immediately dart in there and start playing with the seat. They lift it, and slam it down; lift it, and let it fall; lift it, and smash someone’s fingers. On those occasions when the boys must be in the bathroom, such as during teeth brushings, I have to keep my foot on the seat to keep them from injuring their fingers. Plus the toilet is possibly the most disgusting location in the house, and I don’t want them to catch whatever germs just moved through my gut and are currently churning their way through mommy’s gut.
Without access to the bathroom, the boys might move into the kitchen, which I thought I child-proofed long ago. We have locks on the cabinets, a lock on the refrigerator, and covers on the oven knobs. I thought there was nothing left for the boys to get into.
Then they got into a cabinet. The locks I put on the cabinets came in packs of two, but we have an odd number of cabinets. Instead of shelling out for an extra lock we didn’t need, I left the most innocuous cabinet unlocked. It held dishtowels and other harmless objects, and Abbie ignored it.
The boys, however, found this one unlocked cabinet great fun. It held dishtowels to strew about the floor, plus a fire extinguisher that I forgot about. That thing was great for poking, watching it rock back and forth, and trying to make it land on the other one’s fingers.
Since I’m still too cheap to spring for another package of locks, I moved the lock from a harder-to-reach cabinet onto their favorite cabinet. Now the boys can’t play in any kitchen cabinets unless I move our portable dishwasher. Of course, I have to move the dishwasher every day to wash the dishes, so while it’s in use I need to watch the boys closely. They’re sneaky about opening the vulnerable cabinet while I’m in the living room pulling Abbie off the furniture.
* In fact, she still hasn’t figured out what the toilet is for besides providing entertainment when it flushes.
posted by Matt at
11:07 PM
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