A whole new world

Gus is still dragging his belly, but he moves around pretty fast. The routine is to put him down next to his toys, which he plays with for a bit and then gets bored and starts to head either a) towards the electrical strip b) towards the lamp-stand on wheels or c) towards the fire.

So I spent quite a bit of time looking up baby fencing this week. Here’s an example of what’s out there:
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This particular one costs $200 and I wasn’t able to find any deals on Craig’s list etc. Then it struck me…

I rummaged upstairs and found the old picker’s boxes from the orchard (they actually used to wear these heavy things strapped to their chests):
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Not exactly fashionable but not permanent and totally free.

After a day of thoroughly cleaning the floors, (including blocking off the electrical strip and moving the lamp) I sat back smuggly and told Gus out loud that he was free to go where ever he wanted.

So he promptly went in the kitchen, opened a drawer and slammed his fingers in it.
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(this photo taken 15 minutes later, when tears had dried, toys had been played with and he ventured forth again -straight back for the same drawer)

15 thoughts on “A whole new world

  1. I think Ben (my nephew) was not much older than Gus when Landon and Nicole assumed they had childproofed the entire house. Everything was locked and latched – in fact I couldn’t lift the toilet lid nor turn on a tap (without Ben’s help!!!)
    One day Landon heard the piano, Ben had managed to climb up onto the piano and started dancing on the keys!!
    Good luck with those picker boxey thingeys!

    Nicx
    PS. Ben is now almost 7 and loves his weekly piano lesson – especially since at his first lesson his teacher dismantled the piano to show him how it works. He then tried it himself at home!!

  2. He’s going to be a chef – measuring cups, pots and pans … what more evidence do we need. And he’ll probably pull himself up to standing using the kitchen drawers. Good fencing idea!

  3. Hey Em,
    Doernbecher’s Children’s Hospital has a department that supplies child safety equipment (fences, etc.) at a hugely discounted price. I will get that info for you. You may not need it now, however. 😉

  4. Poor gus! Ouch ouch ouch.

    I wasn’t so much looking at the fancy fencing in the first shot as the terrifying neat, lobotomised mother and her robot children in front of the fire. THEY don’t get their fingers caught in drawers.

  5. Actually, I want to know what the strangely panted woman was doing inside the cage. If you look closely, there is nothing for her to do. The fire is gas powered, she has no cleaning equipment…

    Personally, I think she is actually an escaping obsessive compulsive psychopath. The kids are incidental and she is about to go all hannibal lector on the little girl as soon as she finds fava beans and a nice chianti.

    And boy are those strange pants. I’m pretty sure I skied in something like them in 1972.

  6. I have to admit that when I agree with Chuck about the picture. I was scared for just a moment.

    I love the cherry lugs, Em. I love the decor. Our poor kids had to learn the hard way that the stove was hot. We are of the school of tough love.

    Actually, the truth is that we didn’t have enough room to fence off the stove. And we probably didn’t love our kids as much as you love Gus, that little cutie pie.

    I like the woman’s pants, Chuck. Does that make me a cannibalistic wino too?

  7. I want to know what in god’s name possessed her to paint her living room the exact colour of cherry yogurt.
    I think she was inside the fence with a small ruler, measuring the distance between all the collectibles on her mantle to make sure they were exactly 13 centimeters apart on all sides. And then straightening the painting about 20 times. She’ll be back there again in five minutes to straighten it some more. You can see it in her eyes.

  8. Actually, I’m a diggin’ those pants, feeling the 1972 skiing vibe along with Nettie.

    (Having said that, I just bought meself a flared jumpsuit and plan to wear it without irony, so I’m biased.)

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