The Meanest Family on the Planet

Poor little B is currently living with the meanest family on the planet.  Because there is so very much that we will not let her do.  The things that she most desperately wants to do.  This is a developmental stage also known as toddlerhood (and perhaps later as adolescence).

We won't let her play with scissors.  We won't let her open the knife drawer to satisfy her curiousity about what's inside.  We won't let her grab the glass dishes and toss them into the sink.  Or onto the floor.  Or wherever else her little arm can fling them. 

We won't let her eat dog food (at least not when we're aware that she is trying).  We won't let her drink the dog water with a stray straw she has found.  We won't let her drink the bathwater by the cup full.  We won't let her climb on the dishwasher lid so she can reach into the sink to scoop up the rinse water from the brownie batter which is swimming with chocolate and salmonilla.  Though she routinely climbs on the dishwasher lid to commit other less serious infractions. 

We heavily discourage her from eating off the floor like a dog.  And from scribbling on her siblings homework.  And from dumping her Daddy's chocolate protein shake all over the carpet.  And from squirming her way off the changing table. 

We don't let her flush the toilet three times, though she usually gets away with two when someone leaves the bathroom door open.  We don't let her stand on the toilet and turn on the hot water full blast, even though she's demonstrated that she's quite capable of doing so.  We don't let her rifle through the bathroom drawers to find the clippers and the lip balm and the floss which are irresistably fascinating.

We won't let her escape out the front door to run around unattended.  We won't let her sit in the doggie wading pool in the backyard.  We won't let her wander around in the hazard filled garage without supervision. 

We don't let her have Shaggy's work phone to call up his colleagues to say, "Dada, hi!"  We don't let her access the computer to make changes to our desktop that we're not sure how to fix.  But she does this one anyway.

But these are some of the things that we let her get away with, just because we're exhausted and it doesn't offer any imminent bodily harm.  Emptying out the box of sandwich bags.  Taking all the new, unsharpened pencils out of the desk drawer and walking around the house with them, scattering them behind her like a trail of bread crumbs.  Resetting J's alarm clock.  Dumping out the toy bucket.  Walking around with an open box of cereal.  Dancing on the kitchen table when our arms are nearby to catch her if she falls.  Playing in the relatively clean sink.  Putting the paper clips in and out, in and out, under a watchful eye.  Wandering around in the backyard without parental supervision, only sibling supervision--siblings who are remarkably good at raising the alarm.  "BABY ALERT!!  BABY ALERT!!"

 We hear this baby alert much more often than we'd like.  But we appreciate having so many alarmists around.  They have been responsible for B's rescue from many a tricky, and sticky (very, very sticky), situation.

 So, even though we may well be the meanest family on the planet, we sure love this little bundle of trouble that's been sent our way. And we hope to be able to keep her safe for many a year to come.