Watching You Mom. Always Watching.

     Can we take a moment to appreciate how resilient toddlers are? And by resilient I mean immortal. Granted I didn't recognize this amazing talent for quite some time as my first child was taking fierce tumbles. Each face plant I would tell myself, "This is it, this is the one. I hope she has her affairs in order". I was obviously wrong each time and grew accustomed to the everyday beat down my child would take from the minute perils of the world around her. While I know my child is destined to be taken from me and hauled off to some school for mutants, I still follow my motherly duties of trying to avoid run-ins with the wall.
     Toddler proofing a home is impossible, let's just get that out there. There is nothing you can do that will save them from themselves at this time in life. A baby-proof home is fun while it lasts. The plastic outlet covers seemingly can only be taken out of sockets by toddlers. I mean seriously unless you take a butter knife to pry those things off you're not charging your phone. As an added note, do not take a butter knife to the outlet while your child is watching. They are always watching. You can opt to buy the easy release tab covers but that's asking for trouble with most tots. Those cute little plastic prongs on each drawer and cabinet door are now torn from the base, leaving behind splintered wood and screws sprinkled amongst the floor and cabinetry. Leaving the neglected junk drawer as torturous as Russian roulette. Also if you don't have a single "junk drawer" in your home don't bother reading more this probably isn't for you.

     I'm convinced toddlers are wired to destroy. For instance, just last week I was awoken by Reagan, the toddler, to fetch her a pop-tart. I do as commanded of me and once all seems right with her world I try to sneak in a few more z's. Moments later I wake to nurse the small one. Noticing it is much too quiet I venture to Reagan's door, with the leech abreast. Popsicles. Popsicles everywhere. Yes, multiple. Melted in the carpet, bedspread, her hair. Now in her defense, she calls popsicles pop-tarts often. Immortal this one, immortal and confused.
     Our freezer now has a lock made for the microwave, a microwave people! At least someone in the "Preventative harm to toddlers" department knows what toddlers are thinking. Any veteran mom will vouch for me when I say, "do not operate or unlatch any lock in front of littles". Husbands don't seem to get that. This is made apparent each time my hubby comes home and rewards the mutant with frozen delights. As she stands, seemingly innocent beside the freezer, she watches. As I said before they are always watching. I find myself scolding the man for not realizing his undoing. The fool.
Needless to say, I'm anticipating another popsicle raid soon.
Professor X, come soon.