Last week, I wondered whether or not we should allow the kids to roam free in our "off-limit" zone in the living room. Forty-four percent of you think we should let the kids walk around in the "off-limit" zone so they can be exposed to electrical cords, hidden porn, and my machete collection. But thirty-three percent of you say the kids should stay away, and twenty-five percent say the kids could break my precious television set that contains deadly mercury.
Because of this poll, I did let Andrew walk around in the "off-limit" zone one day while Emma was taking a bath. When I placed Andrew in this area, his eyes lit up and seemed a little shocked. "What did I do to deserve this treasure of discovery?" Andrew thought. At first, he was a little tentative and kept on looking back at me to make sure he wasn't going to be yelled at. Once that past, he was smiling away and running back and forth. I started to think that maybe we should let the kids explore more openly. But then he started to hit the television set. I pulled him back. He ran back and hit it more. I pulled him back again. He yelled. I pulled his face towards mine for eye contact.
"Andrew! Do not touch the television set. Danger. Do not touch."
He stopped yelling and smiled, so I put him down and patted my back for good parenting. And then he hit the television.
I think we'll keep the barrier up a little longer, but we'll take them down when we know the kids can understand a little more what they can and can't touch. I understand this may never happen, but I love my television too much. Perhaps the day when 52" LCDs go down in price, I'll remove the gates and expose the kids to deadly mercury.
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As of today, it looks like the kids are no longer terrorized by Auntie Anne's (pretzel maven) presence. They have asked her to read books to them, and occasionally they have even smiled at her. Anne also seems to enjoy the kids more than the last time she saw them when they were just these little pooping blobs. Now that the kids are comfortable with Anne, I was contemplating whether or not she would be able to babysit the kids by herself if I needed to go out for an errand (i.e. go see Quantum of Solace).
The thing is that I don't know how baby-capable Anne is. Here's what I do know: she has not changed a diaper, made a bottle, or fed them yet. But I could easily teach her all of these things. It just worries me that a nickname she has chosen for herself is "Baby" from Dirty Dancing. Can a Baby take care of two babies? What do you think?
1 comment:
I didn't leave my kids with my little sister until the oldest one could call the police by herself.
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