"Danger gleams like sunshine to a brave man's eyes." - Euripides
Recently, our Wee Lass made the jump to light speed,...I mean crawling. Doesn't it feel like hyperspace when you realize the amount of debris out there for you little ones to get into? One day she was doing baby yoga and remaining stationary. The next day she was army crawling toward what she wanted. By day three, she had the crawl down and was off to get into all kinds of hijinks. With the two older ones laying out toy and food "breadcrumbs", Wee Lass just follows them to certain danger. Thus it's time to baby proof.
I'd like to be open and transparent and admit that I suggested to the wife that we invest in the baby fighting octagon (you know, like the Summer Infant Secure Surround Play Safe Play Yard. Boy that's a mouthful). After referring to it as Thunderdome and chanting "two babies enter, one baby leaves!" I was vetoed for the manual version. That is me taking my turn running interference and ensuring there's no unauthorized ingestion of foreign contaminants. We've done the electrical outlet safety plugs, cabinet locks, etc. It's all worked. There's one or two things we've learned after the first two.
Leave one of the lowest drawers or cabinets unlocked and fill it with the tupperware. It gives them something to get into without being as bad as a pit of snakes. Clean up seventeen times a day will get old, but it worked for us. Also, baby proofing is not a baby proof solution. Our 'Lil Man was a freakin' Houdini. It was like, how'd he get THAT open? Depending on your child, the baby proofing stuff will either work like a Harry Potter charm (en-lockium totalius!!!), or it will only act as a temporary deterrent until the child figures out how to get the goods.
Yes, we've found that when it is time to baby proof the house, a collective sigh is expressed throughout the home. It's a necessary task, for the greater good. Even then, they will get into stuff and even hurt themselves. My little sprogs are proof of that. So wish me luck, and same back at 'ya. Now where's my screwdriver?