Posted by on Aug 15, 2011 in baby gates, baby proofing, becoming a toddler | 0 comments

I think I’ve been living with one foot planted firmly in the Land of Baby-Proofing Denial.

Surely Ryan is not old enough to warrant full baby proofing. We cannot be at that stage, because 20 minutes ago, I was holding a sleepy little newborn in my arms. And 10 minutes ago, he was just learning to sit up on his own.

Yesterday, I snapped out of it.

Probably because my kid decided to go the whole day with only one fleeting 30-minute nap in the morning. The rest of the day? He wanted to roam. He did not want to go in his froggy activity center. (How dare you for even suggesting it!) And he was only interested in hanging out in his baby jail for as long as it took him to throw out all of his toys, at which point, he was Over. It.

Needless to say, after this weekend, little guy is only allowed to have soft toys in the pack ‘n play. We’ve learned our lesson.

By the end of the weekend, I was exhausted from all the chasing. The gates went up. Now, Ryan has a new challenge: Figure out how to shrink down to a tiny triangle in order to fit through the baby gate holes.

Don’t bother telling him it isn’t possible. He’s not big on logic right now.

The gates block Ryan from the kitchen and from the cat’s litter box. And I have plans for another bigger gate that will keep him away from the TV, the fan, and a large variety of cords.

One of my favorite decorative tables is finding a new home in our bedroom. All other furniture is mounted within an inch of its life. And it may be necessary to relocate our stereo and satellite radio so that he doesn’t eat the satellite receiver, which he will do if you turn your back for one second.

Something about seeing those gates up last night emotionally affected me. It’s undeniable now. He’s more of a toddler than an infant. An almost-toddler who is endlessly curious, one who thrives on exploration, one with seven times the amount of socially acceptable energy.

It’s also affecting me physically, in the form of toned leg muscles. It would seem I walk into my kitchen approximately 743 times a day. One doesn’t realize this until one must heave one’s legs over a gate again and again and again.

(P.S. I’m using a new commenting system. Try it out! It’s supposed to allow me to reply directly to each comment.)