Arrow is mostly a genius baby. She can pull herself up to standing. She can sit and crawl on her own. She's pretty much a perfect little chub. I have to use the term "mostly" because she hasn't yet picked up on which toys she's not allowed to play with. Namely, anything sharp, contains a choking hazard, or has a plug goes straight into her mouth.
We've tried to change her ways. When she's out to do some exploring, we make sure to place stuffed animals in her path. Or crinkly books. Or plastic keys. Or anything deemed baby safe.
None of these toys can really distract her long enough from the intoxicating and dangerously appealing items. Nothing quite says "baby stimulation" like the vacuum plug or my super nasty, dirty flip flops. A crinkly book may sustain a couple minutes of entertainment, but real paper can last at least half an hour. Plus, it tastes better. Ooh, and let's not forget plastic bags. Those are the best, because they're full of stuff to unload and personally taste test.
In the pre-crawl stage, I saw my apartment as a regular home. Table, chairs, rug, tile. Little did I know that Arrow saw things to help her stand, chew on, and of course fall and hit her head on. Repeatedly.
Honestly, the place looks clean to me. Nothing out of place, or even remotely dangerous. Once I leave her alone for a couple minutes, I almost always come back to her chewing on something that will most definitely give her some sort of brain defect in the near future. Like the nails she found on the floor that appeared completely out of nowhere and were serving as a mid-afternoon snack.
After doing some baby-proofing research, I've realized that the only way for her to be safe was to keep her in a walled room with only a crib, dresser, and a soft teddy bear. Nothing else. What a prison for an adrenaline driven child.
You guys! Even the nursery isn't safe. Not when your begging-to-be-electrocuted daughter discovers the uncovered outlets. (Parent fault on that one). But I wouldn't have guessed she would find the springs to the crib (which her fingers are destined to be stuck in) more fun than her rattle. Who knew that she would constantly bonk her head on the walls. Now I see that the dresser is only meant for a nasty bruise later on.
For now, her bedroom will have to suffice while the rest of the house is decidedly more baby-accident-pro. She knows it's not nearly as fun as the rest of the place though. When the fun time runs out in the nursery (usually about ten minutes) I'll hear her wailing from within. Her cries get closer and closer, which means she's working her way to the door. Sometimes she'll scratch at it with her little hand (told you she's a genius). When I finally open the door, she's sitting there with tears on her cheeks. Right next to her is her teddy bear, which she dragged along across the room. I guess ol' Teddy didn't want to be left behind in safety, either.
Originally posted on April 26th, 2015.