We’re on the verge of toddlerhood and my two tiny co-conspirators are living up to their pre-natal nicknames. Search, my little spirit of battle, takes everything in around him. He’ll sit quietly in a corner, plotting. His actions are quite methodical. Search. Destroy tends to rush right in. He’s a take-charge, dive-right-in, come-what-may kind of guy. Destroy.
Both little dudes are eager for adventure. This will likely lead to numerous future blog posts filled with exasperation (and all too probably involving the phrase, “And when we got home from the emergency room…”).
The living room is the sole childproof room in the house. The rest of our abode is scheduled to be safety-fied ideally sometime before the muppets leave home for college. But until then, mischief is managed in the room that closely resembles a Toys R Us that projectile puked across the space.
Don’t be discouraged – the muppets have found all the shortcomings of our parental proofing skills. The present rapscallion ideal is the fireplace. (Destroy apparently thinks he’s Santa Claus.) After brief consultations with one another, the muppets climbed aboard, above, across, against, along, amid, among, around, behind, below, beneath, beside, between, beyond, inside, into, onto, over, past, through, to, toward, under and up any obstacle placed in their path.
In an attempt to convince myself that I could outsmart two 1-year-olds, I exerted a great deal of effort rearranging the furniture so I could stuff an open Pack-n-Plan horizontally across the fireplace opening. They’re still trying to figure out how to beat me on this one…
Tonight, we started to clean up some of the toys before the boys went to bed. This was a dumb idea.
Some of the larger toys were stacked on the treadmill, while the rest of the collective doo-hickeys and thingamabobs are piled and shoved into a six-cubby cabinet. Enjoying a rare evening together, Jon and I were relaxing on the floor while the muppets played.
Suddenly I heard a crash. Their tricycle giraffe was zooming off the treadmill, tumbling onto the floor. Destroy was proudly standing high above his conquest, pleased as punch with himself, and banging on his music table in celebration. Shortly thereafter the music table was hurled onto its head to the victory cry of a 25-pound muppet.
Meanwhile, over at the cabinet, Search was stealthily eyeing, examining and tossing toys to the floor one by one. Both boys were up to something. I could see it in their tired twinkling eyes.
Just as I started to wonder what they were up to, Search went flying past me on the newly liberated giraffe. This was clearly a distraction, as I spied the baby slide slowly scooting itself across the floor. Moments later, Destroy was climbing the slide – his pudgy big boy hands now reached the top of the Pack-n-Play blockade.
You may be able to get in, but your eventual escape will be my prerogative little boy… And the fireplace is still secure. (I know, I know – I should be so proud to have proven myself smarter than two toddlers who cannot yet talk or walk.)
Search and Destroy are currently resting up for tomorrow’s battles. I think I might need a glass of wine.