Elle is four plus months old and trying so hard to start motoring on her own. As she planks and flops her arms up and down I can’t help but laugh. I know I shouldn’t but it’s better than fretting about how un-baby friendly our house is.
Mr. Pirate and I are not house keepers. Things land where it’s convenient and our filing system is pretty much non existent. We try to keep things organized (sort of) but for the most part our house is basically a lost cause.
Worried about baby smacking her head on the hearth? Not me, she can’t even get to the hearth. Heck. I can’t even get to it and I can step over the piles.
Even though we spend most of our time on the main floor, we’ve installed a baby gate at the top of the stairs since that’s where our bedrooms are. The cats, however, are not amused. Last night Harley sat on the other side of the gate and yowled piteously. They have not figured out how to jump over the gate and they’re both too wide to fit through it.
The one major safety thing that we don’t have to worry about at all, are our electrical outlets. When we had an electrician update our wiring, we also went ahead and spent a little extra money to have kid-proof outlets installed. Like an inverted version of the plug-in variety of outlet covers, these have the protection built in. Pretty cool and pretty much Manda-proof too. It’s fairly normal for Mr. Pirate to come into the kitchen and find me struggling to plug in appliances. There’s a trick to it, he tells me. And yet even after two years I still haven’t figured it out. Maybe that’s secretly why people like me have kids, so that at least someone in the house can open up the aspirin bottle.