Posted by Duff

You’d think when your child is past the age of putting anything and everything in her mouth, you’re safe. And then you watch her pick a who-knows how old cheddar goldfish (that you somehow missed) from between the couch cushions. And eat it.

You think once your child has dropped her fascination with the inner workings of the toilet, you can relax a little. Until she presses her cheek to it while she watches you apply makeup.

You’d think having said “Not safe. NOT SAFE. NOT SAFE. NOT.SAFE,” enough times to deter your child from ripping her nightlight out of the wall would bring you some ease. But the one time you forget to replace the outlet cover after vaccuuming, you find her about to ‘plug in’ a barrette.

You’d think a child who considers syrup on her hands an utter, panic-inducing catastrophe would be more discriminating about what she picks up without inspecting. Until she picks up a dog turd.

You’d think after explaining many hundreds of times that we don’t bring soapy water all over the house to pour in anything that will (or won’t) hold it, that it would finally sink in. And then after spending two  minutes alone in the bathroom, you find a Dervish sponging soapy water as far as she can reach across  the sliding glass door. In this case, you hand her a towel and let her ‘clean’ anything she can reach. And thank your lucky stars it wasn’t toothpaste. Or applesauce. Or syrup.

It’s a wonder any of us make it to adulthood. Dave Barry was right: we really do spend our first few years trying to find ways to off ourselves.

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