Crawling Card

Last Thursday was a work-at-home day, and my desk (see also dining room table) was missing something. I couldn't think what it was. Creative Juice. That's it. I gave Simeon a glance — he was seated and playing happily on the dining room floor by the built-in corner cabinet — and went to retrieve my precious pot of coffee. 

According to my wife, I am a living definition of a dilly-dally-er (I have likely mentioned this before). Sarah won't believe this, but I didn't dilly-dally — not so much as a pussyfoot, lollygag, shilly-shally, or even a dawdle. I grabbed my Creative Juice and walked back to the dining room. 

The corner cabinet was still there, as was Simeon's toy drum. Simeon, however, was not there. He teleported. I was sure of it. Actually, that's not true. I made that last part up.

Simeon made his first act as a card carrying member of the Crawler's Club count. He didn't dilly-dally. He saw an opening when I went on my Creative Juice run and bolted — straight for the light socket on the other side of the room. I mean, really. 

I half-expect the next friendly stranger at the grocery store to creep in and say, "hey, isn't he the poster child for child proofing your house?" Why yes. Yes, he is. 

I got the message loud and clear, little mister poster child. Not only is our house not child-proof, I'm convinced that there is nothing in our house that is out of his reach. Since getting his Crawling Card, little-s has lunged for more electrical outlets, pulled countless books off of shelves, attempted to scale every vertical structure, attempted to put numerous electrical cords in his mouth, overturned MuShu's water bowl more than once, and  — brace yourself — dumped the bucket we keep his dirty cloth diapers all over the bathroom floor. 

So, this weekend, I'm calling upon my long-dormant crawling skills once again. On my hands and my knees, I'll be navigating every square foot of our bungalow looking for unplugged outlets, sharp objects and poo-filled buckets.