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Contamination contained. We set up a perimeter. No babies will be escaping from this facility. Now our evil plans can begin mwahahahahahahahaaaaaaaa!
Since rolling has quickly turned into scooting in circles and the occasional attempt to push up on his knees we decided it was time to get started on the baby-proofing. Of course, just like EVERYTHING ELSE about parenthood, you can only be prepared for half of it. The things you thought you absolutely had to have (ahem BUMBO SEAT) were totally unnecessary and you end up running through the street at 11:00 pm throwing money at anyone who promises to get you the stuff you neeeeeeeed.
The real victims of the baby proofing are our pets. The stupid evil cat can’t figure out how to get through the gate (hint: YOU JUST WALK THROUGH IT YOU’RE A CAT). The dog can no longer run to the front door and greet every single visitor we have OMG TRAGIC. And the stupid nice cat has already decided she’d prefer if I opened it FOR her so she sits and meows. Odds are we’re going to have at least one poop on the floor incident before we reach acceptance. Although since the gate is between the couch and the bathroom, I wouldn’t rule E out of that race. Kidding honey!
When I got home from work my dog Brutus was sleeping peacefully in his crate. We don’t lock him in during the day anymore, since his desire to eat our furniture has abated. When he saw me he came out, wagged his tail, and waited patiently for me to open the back door. Brutus went out and watered my begonias, turned around, came back in and lay on the floor. Wow, what a great dog! I thought to myself. I am so lucky to have such a wonderful, sweet, well mannered dog, especially since I don’t have the energy to deal with a bad dog right now. I bet someday Brutus will save the baby from drowning, or alert us all to a fire, or tell me Timmy fell down the well just in time for Hugh Jackman to run in and save the day. (My mind is not well right now.)
Then I walked around the corner and right into the trail of chewed platic, half eaten styrofoam, bits of paper and God knows what else Brutus had dragged out of the trash can and strewn around the the first floor.
Stupid dog sure had me fooled. We should have just stuck with cats. I thought bitterly.
Until I got upstairs to find the cat had pooped on a pile of clean laundry.