Speed Racer

Since the crawling began I have realized what a complete deathtrap our apartment is. Seriously - there are cords everywhere and sharp corners and brewing equipment and musical instruments and yarn and three hole punches strewn about the place! I don't even notice most of it until it is on it's way into his mouth/onto his head.

He is fast, too. In the blink of an eye he can go from the relative safety of the living room to being wrist-deep in the cat's water bowl and about to lick the remnants of last night's chicken liver paté.

He'll eat anything, too. I know it's the way babies explore their world, but this world doesn't include a housekeeper. I've nipped that in the bud by making sure he has a pacifier in his mouth when he's on the floor.

He's also learned that now that the apartment is his oyster he doesn't have to play with all the stupid toys his mommy and daddy have lovingly dangled at him for the past seven months. He can now enjoy the hollow thump of a cottage cheese tub. Or the subtle humor of a twist tie (see below).

I've gotten pretty good at running after him and scooping him up before he dives head first into the kitty litter box. I take my victories where I can get them.