Rookie Dad: I'm a prisoner

It's official. We've finally walled off the living room. No, it's not my own recreation of the Berlin wall. It's actually more of a gate. In fact. it is actually a gate. One of two gates the we will eventually have in place to keep The Youngling from ending up stuck behind the dryer way out in the laundry room if one of us turns our head for a second or two.

Even though she is still in army crawl mode, The Youngling can really move. Just yesterday as I stood at the bottom of the backs steps of our house, after placing the little girl far away in the living room, she had made her way through about forty feet of house and was tapping her tiny hands against the screen door wondering what was taking me so long. I just turned my head and said, as if she could understand me, that the sweet corn doesn't husk itself.

These are the battles that occupy a weekend in our house. On a more proud note, after over nine months I finally gave The Youngling a bath all by myself. She didn't scream, she didn't attempt to drown herself and she came out at least somewhat clean - all without using the tub as a toilet.
Now if I can just find a gate to span the ultra-wide entry way in to the living room The Youngling will finally be contained - for a few weeks.

Rookie Dad: The case of the curious wino

It all started Tuesday. As I waited at home for the entire day to get The Youngling in to see a doctor (I suppose I should schedule her illnesses) I let the little terror crawl around the house. She seems bored and disinterested already with the stereo, VCR, DVD player and stack of various Nintendo consoles. Her new fascination is the wine rack.

The wine rack is one of those items in a household that can not be banished to some distant corner or some high up location. It's a necessity in the world of raising children but it also poses a certain amount of danger to a nine month old girl.

Her latest encounter with the wine rack found her pulling out a large carafe-style bottle of wine I picked up on clearance somewhere. I knew she had it dislodged from the rack when I heard a mighty "thud" on the dining room floor.

It seems that she knows what to go for and while I applaud The Youngling's good tastes, I should probably make sure she steers clear of the wine for about another 20 years - or at least until she is no longer in danger of crushing her hand with a large jug of wine.