Just Call Me Trouble

Who, me?

Today we realized that we are a tad behind on child-proofing.

I've been half-heartedly telling Nick that we really need to do the final work on the bedroom.  But so far Cora hasn't done much climbing out of bed, even though we knew it was ready to happen.  (For the record, no, she's not climbing out of a crib. She sleeps on a toddler mattress right next to our mattress, both on the floor.  It's part of our GRADUAL attempt to work her out of our bed.)

Usually she lets us know she's awake by talking or whining, and then she sits and plays until we come to her.

But last week Nick heard some noise in the room and went in to find Cora scooting toward the dresser, leaving a trail from her dirty, leaky diaper.  Again on Saturday when I went to get her up I found her scooting to the trash can.  We should have finished the child-proofing then.

But yesterday she gave not a peep.  Not even one.  The little sneaker has learned the ropes.

I heard a small bump.  The kind of bump that is typical in a house with two cats.  But still, I knew that I should go check on Cora.

This time I found her on the floor on Daddy's side of the bed.  The as yet not child-proofed side, complete with uncovered electrical outlets (yes, I know... negligent...) and even a couple pairs of Daddy's shoes, whose soles Cora will disgustingly lick if lucky enough to find a wayward pair.

But her true find was the box of tissues.



Yes, I know, not overwhelmingly naughty.  And when caught in the act she was quite pleased herself.

She was even willing to share the loot.

But it did prompt us to immediately finish our baby-proofing efforts.  We finally installed the outlet covers and tucked the wires safely away.  Oh yeah, and moved the kleenex out of reach.  Guess now we just need a more sensitive baby monitor or one with a video.