Reckoning

Today we got a little hint of what life must be like for some other parents.

See, Ellie didn't get to go to school all week last week. And we weren't out doing exciting things, either. She was sick, and we kept her (mostly) quietly at home. By today, she was climbing up the walls.

The morning began with a crash: she broke a lovely blue glass vase that we got for our wedding. The vase began a trend of people giving us blue glass presents, and my blue glass collection has moved as both it and Ellie have grown. From the dining room table to the bottom shelf of the tall cabinet Paul's grandfather made for us, finally to the top two shelves of the cabinet. Eye level for me. Ellie reached it by standing on the arm of an easy chair and yanking the beaded, tatted cloth that some of the pieces were resting on.

A little later, as I was changing a disgusting, antibiotics-related diaper, she reached out and grabbed it. My fault: I left it within reach. But she doesn't usually do that. Poopy hand.

See, when other people bring their children to our home, they start moving things around and noting obstacles. Our house isn't perfectly child-proofed. But it's child-proofed for us. We know what Ellie gets into and we've addressed those things. Mostly. When we started putting locks on cabinets, we did it one-at-a-time, as Ellie became fascinated by each cabinet in turn rather than exploring all at once.

But back to today.

When I needed a few minutes alone in the bathroom, Ellie laid down on the floor outside and started kicking the hollow-core door, hard, with both feet. Shod in sturdy Stride Rites and orthotics, natch. BOOM! BOOM! BOOM!

She got into cupboards she's not usually into and got out appliances she's not usually interested in.

She removed the cushion from the rocking chair in her room, climbed up on it, and pushed her floor lamp over. Then she climbed up onto her bed to better examine and dissect the workings of the lamp.

She decided to drink from the dog's water bowl.

She unplugged every cord she could find.

She went to Paul's dresser and pulled the top drawer down. Only her hyper-flexibility saved her from being crushed by it.

She was fascinated by the (gas!) stove while we were cooking.

She "climbed" down out of her booster seat by herself at dinner.

She broke the door off a wooden bench/cabinet.

She climbed up on the arm of a sofa to reach the cherrywood secretary, removed one of the drawers, and got out the stone coasters I'd "hidden" inside.

What's so disturbing is that one or both of us was right beside Ellie as she did nearly all of these things.

"There's no way tonight doesn't end in a trip to the emergency room," Paul said.

Now she's sleeping like an angel. No trips to the ER today. But I am so very glad that she's going to preschool tomorrow! She still has a cough and her energy level isn't back to normal - she crashes earlier for her nap - but she needs this outlet. And so do we!

As we were finishing up dinner, Ellie was playing quietly in the living room. She'd excused herself from the table earlier, as you might recall, by sliding out of her seat. She walked back in as we were finishing up, with something in each hand.

"CD?" she asked us politely. She'd thoughtfully opened the cases and obtained a CD for each of us. A Dr. Seuss album for me, and Ani Difranco's Reckoning for Paul.