Testing Testing 1-2-3

"And the rain rain rain came down down down..." Sacramento could be the 100 Acre Woods. We've seen the sun maybe three days in as many months. The vernal equinox did nothing to disperse the ubiquitous grey cloud cover and wet sky falling falling down on our house.

And in that house we've been huddled for the last four days. Except for an excursion to Lowe's and Aunt Betsy's on Sunday, we've stayed fairly close to home. As in, in the home. All of this nesting seems to have served as a sort of cocoon for Jeremy. Yesterday, the metamorphasis was complete. Out popped ... a TODDLER!

I should have known something would be very different from the moment he woke up. Usually, he cries himself awake and remains grumpy and fuzzy for around thirty minutes. But yesterday, he woke up gabbing to himself and ready to go. In retrospect, I think he was making a mental list of all the ways he could test Mama Nay.

Our house is somewhat child proofed. Mostly so, but not to the nth. Our philosophy is that children must live in the world, not in a padded cell, and that it is important to teach young ones how to be safe, to control their own impulses, and to discern the point where risk outweighs the fun. Of course, that means that we have to be ever-more present and on guard in these next few years. We can't just sit him in a room with some toys and go about our own business. No, we have committed ourselves to be the omnipresent hand helping to keep him out of true harm while holding back and letting him roam and explore.

After yesterday, I was wondering if it is too late to build that padded cell.

How did he test me? Let me count the ways.

1. He climbed the stairs, turned around, stood up and attempted to step down without holding on to anything. My request to have him sit his butt down was met with a giggle. In response to my gentle nudge to ensure his butt was down, he popped on his feet and laughed aloud.
2. He pulled on the power cord (not plugged in) to a floor fan, obsessed with tasting the prongs and the entire length of it. When I plucked him hastily away, he exploded in dramatic cries directed at the heavens.
3. He stood next to the living room window, turned his torso to face me, ensured that we had eye contact, flashed me a Mona Lisa grin, and then deliberately placed his fingers on the venetian blinds -- which he knows is off limits.
4. He toddled into the kitchen, glanced back to be sure I was looking, then shoved his hand in the dogs' water.
5. He crawled behind the end table to play with the lamp cord, which he has not done in months.
6. He rocked a floor lamp back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth.
7. He did all of the above, and more, over and over and over.

Um, did I mention that he did this all day long? I kept my calm facade, reminding myself that this is his job right now, to see whether Mama means what she says, all the time, and whether she will keep him safe. But, ohmigosh, was I glad when Barb got home and I could run in the other room and tear my hair out.