Deathtrap 2008!

The lovely Mrs. G. and I had the honor and privilege of babysitting Baby Emmy this weekend. It’s always a thrill for us to have the baby around, especially now that she’s becoming so...interactive.

Emmy will have her first birthday on Wednesday this week (Happy Birthday, Emmers!), and she’s really growing fast. I know, I know. That’s what kids are supposed to do, right? Well, sometimes it still freaks me out to see that this little slice of angelic love – whom I watched come into this world a mere 12 months ago – is now crawling at lightning speed, babbling like mad, and sporting four really useful teeth.

Emmy is a happy, active, and incredibly curious little girl, all right. She’s just about ready to take on Jeff Gordon in a speed crawling contest, and it’ll be any day now before she’s up and running.

So to say that we now need to keep an eye on her all the time would be an understatement. Turn your back on her for even a second, and poof – just like a medicore Fox sitcom, she’s gone.

And it’s because we now realize that fact that Mrs. G. and I have come to a harsh realization – Good Lord, our house is a deathtrap!

Now don’t worry. It’s not like we leave loaded guns around the house or razor blades on the kitchen floor. But we’ve yet to get around to properly babyproofing our house, a fact that was made all the more clear this weekend as Miss Emmy explored every nook, cranny, and cupboard she could find.

Tell me, Perfect Moms of America: Why is it that kids instinctively know where to go look for things they shouldn’t be in? There are 15 baby-level cabinets in our kitchen, yet she somehow instinctively honed in on the one under the sink, where the dishsoap and other nasties are stored.

But it didn’t stop there. She thought the garbage can was her greatest play toy. She thoroughly enjoyed getting into the cat’s water dish every time “someone” (primarily me – I’ll admit it) forgot to close the door. She tried numerous times to climb the hall stairs, even though there was no clear exit plan in place. And don’t get me started on her ultimate quest this weekend – Indiana Emmy and the Quest of the Basement Stairs. It's a good thing she doesn't have a 12 month size fedora and whip.

So our formerly little helpless angel is now Hell on Wheels. Or all fours, if you want to skip the cliché.

Ah, but all is not lost. Mrs. G. and Little Baby Scoots-Too-Fast went shopping this afternoon, and came home with a brand-new lovely babyproofing kit. Why, it has dozens of electrical outlet plugs, a couple of doorknob covers, some cabinet latches, you name it. Add that with our brand-new baby gate (which I still need to figure out how to use), and we should be set. No more chances of baby getting into things she really shouldn’t.

At least until she figures out how to use Poppy’s computer to send email. Then look out, world. You’re on your own then.