And at 8 months old, the real trouble begins. I remember being a child and scaling everything I could. Any tree I could reach, rocks, hills, piles of gravel – they were my own personal jungle gym. I think my son has taken after me.
His grandmother offered a few weeks ago, I believe for the last time, to babysit the Gremlin. I traveled to work looking forward to returning to a quiet apartment, and paid the cost. At 9am I was interrupted from my daily duties by a call from the Mother of the Gremlin.
“My mom just called. He has removed all her doorjambs.”
“What doorjambs? There aren’t any on the first floor.” (Where his Pack ‘N Play was, and thus I foolishly believed him to be constrained to.)
“Oh, yeah, he took them off all the jambs on the second floor.”
“Your mom left him up there without watching him?!”
“Oh, yeah, he learned how to climb stairs.”
I sighed. It was only a matter of time. I was hoping he didn’t learn that one for a while (we don’t have stairs in our condo), but apparently his trips to the playground have been paying off for him.
“She said she put him in the living room, and went to go get his bottle ready. She couldn’t see him because of the couch, but apparently when she turned away, he had gone through the door, down the hall, and up the stairs. She looked for him all over downstairs, and apparently that gave him time to pull all the doorjambs off the walls upstairs.”
I attempted to console her, and went back to work, thinking that the trouble for the day was over – and hopefully the trouble for the week. Sadly, I was mistaken when not even two hours later I received another call.
“I’m not going to be home tonight.”
“Okay, why not?”
“I’m going to my parent’s.”
“Okay, is everything alright?”
“He scaled the china cabinet. My mom found him on the counter area neatly stacking all the china dishes he was able to reach.”
And this is before he can even take 15 steps without falling over…