Spidergirl, Spidergirl

Madeline is climbing up the walls. Literally. She crawls up to a wall, the couch, my leg, the garbage can, and gets and her knees and tries to crawl up. This is often followed by a sudden loss of grip, a swift fall forward, and hard bumps to the head. I am afraid she is going to die. I have done all the good parent stuff. I have lowered her crib, bought a gate, put plastic things in the electrical outlets, went without my fan, relocated the laundry hamper, swept and mopped the floors so she doesn't eat crumbs and get food poisoning, and I dutifully undo the cords from the DVD player from the television whenever we aren't watching a movies so she can't grab them and get electrocuted or break the TV or do something else horribly dangerous, like swing like a trapeze artist. But I can't move the stupid walls. Or wrap them in fluffy blankets. Or make her wear a helmet. (Wait. Maybe I could try that one. Is that a cruel thing to do?) She just wants to be too big too fast, and she's got just enough motor skills to be a hazard to herself. I can just hear parents everywhere, mine included, out there laughing at me and shaking their heads knowingly. Maybe someday I'll be cool like them and laugh at my children when they're discovering the joys of parenthood.

On a brighter note, she's also starting to jabber more instead of always squealing, which is fun, because Jessie and I can lie to ourselves and pretend she's saying meaningful things like "hi" and "dad" and "buy more chocolate for mama". (I can't ever quite get Jessie to believe that last one. What a skeptic.) Jessie thinks that because she started crawling earlier than the average baby, she'll start talking earlier too. I think she'll have no need for coherent speech because she'll be off getting everything herself and going wherever she wants and learning to be quiet when she's doing mischievous things so I won't figure it out and stop her. Unfortunately for her, I've already learned that kids are most dangerous when you can't hear them, so I'll be on the lookout. Bryce taught me that one when he painted the table green while I was supposed to be watching him. Thanks Bryce, for initiating me into the ways of terrible toddlers and preparing me for many of the possible hijinks my own kids will likely get into. I'll get you back when I let you babysit my wayward children. Ah, sweet revenge.