It’s Friday (thank goodness) and that means it’s time for another edition of Fatherhood Friday over at Dad-Blogs. So once you’re done here, please check out all of the talented dad (and mom) contributors over there.
Somewhere, deep down, I knew this day would come. But that doesn’t mean I’m fully prepared for it.
We have a good system for Will when it comes to letting him roam around the house. I close the doors to our bedroom, his bedroom and the bathroom so he’s got nowhere to go down into the hallway. Since our place is pretty small, I can see him wherever he goes anywhere else in the house. And if I have to go to the bathroom or do something quickly, I have no worries about turning my back for 30 seconds or so because I knew he really couldn’t get into trouble.
But when I went to the bathroom a few days ago and left Will in the living room, I came back out and found him proudly standing on the couch.
It’s official: We have a climber!
You should’ve seen the look on his face. Grinning from ear to ear, puffing his chest out triumphantly. And he was holding the remote control and gloating, because I always make sure to put it on top of the couch out of his reach. But now it appears his reach has expanded dramatically. And so has his ability to torture me.
You see, the torture children inflict on you progresses as they get older.
At first, as a newborn, it’s all mental. It’s not like they can get up and run around fresh out of the womb, so instead they just cry and cry and feed every two others and turn your brain into sludge. Then they start crawling. At first you think you can keep up with them. After all, it’s just a little baby so how fast can they crawl? The answer is faster than shit through a goose. They get into everything and they find every speck of dirt in the house to put in their mouths. You end up running around like a madman taking things away from him, yet he continually manages to find more.
Then they start cruising and pulling themselves up using different objects like coffee tables. And that means you can no longer put your cell phone, keys, etc on the table because he can grab it and anything else in his reach. They also don’t have the good sense to protect themselves so they constantly pull up and hit their heads, which means you have mini heart attacks every single time they’re upright and moving.
Next it’s on to walking and that’s when they really hit their stride in torturing you. Because it’s not so much walking as it is a drunken, crazed stumble until they really get their feet under them. They run into tables, they fall constantly and then they try to navigate steps. Parents, meanwhile, slowly start to lose their minds.
But it doesn’t get better, because after walking comes climbing. Now Will is able to climb up on couches and chairs. Then he stands at the edge of said couch and peers over, apparently contemplating whether or not he can fly. But now that he can climb I have no where to put all the stuff I don’t want him to touch. Seriously, all of our cell phones and keys and remotes are WAY up on our entertainment stand. We need a ladder just change the channel or make a call. Meanwhile Will is able to play with the shades, the window and one of these days he’s bound to take a digger right off the couch. Not to mention I think he’s starting to figure out he can partially scale the bars of his crib to launch an escape. I can only imagine how interesting it will be when we’re awakened at 2 a.m. by a loud thud, as Will climbed the walls of his prison crib like a monkey and used momentum to flip over the side.
Seriously, having a kid is like running an insane asylum. Except the patients have free reign and they’re allowed to literally climb the walls. And if you tase them or try to subdue them with straightjackets you get DSS called on you. It’s unfair really, but that’s just how it is.
Yet even given all that, I’m pretty proud of him. He looked so smug standing on that couch, and dad is impressed with how deft he is at pulling himself up.
I’m excited (and a little scared) to see what’s next.