Out of necessity, this year is full of compromises. This is particularly evident if you take a close look at our living quarters. Our very physical baby seems to have that special knack for finding the most precious thing in the room and destroying it. Add to this a new found ability to open sliding doors and close swinging doors and we’ve fast had to develop an extra pair of eyes and hands each.
Prior to our BNN year Poppa designed possibly the best baby proofing contraption ever (let’s call it, the “best patented baby proofing contraption ever”…just in case…) when he covered the lower shelves of our bookshelf in Little Fearse’s play area with a black board door.
Since BNN began, and Little Fearse started walking, the kitchen became a danger zone. Little Fearse loves to hang out with me while I’m cooking. Sometimes she is more than happy to sit in her high chair and chat with me while I cook. Other times she wants her freedom. Hot ovens, boiling liquids, sharp knives, rolling recyclables: you basically have to be Indiana Jones to negotiate the traps and pitfalls of passing through the kitchen. We quickly realised we needed some kind of baby gate to keep her safe and at bay. Fortunately some very kind friends offered us their baby gate. They had decided to replace it because it doesn’t have an opening; you have to step over it.
This didn’t seem like a bad compromise at first. Poppa and I are both exceptionally tall, so stepping over a minor hurdle to get into and out of the kitchen seemed…well, minor. It turns out it is pretty annoying, especially if you’re carrying a baby toddler and a cup of coffee. Although it’s not perfect, it was a perfect BNN solution. I’m beginning to see its upsides, too. I think that probably just by the act of entering and exiting the kitchen I am working new and perhaps previously atrophied muscles. I could even call it a daily work out. Little Fearse loves to stand at the gate and chat with me as I cook. She has recently started throwing things over the gate, just to see if I’ll throw them back. Sometimes I do.
Other compromises are much uglier and involve multitudes of cardboard boxes or alternative uses for clothes horses. Gaffer tape features prominently. Meh. If it works, it works. It’s fortunate that we were not going for any awards in our interior design. Things are looking decidedly BNN around here.
Peeking out from behind my cardboard barrier,