This week Zoey became fully confident in movement. She used to roll over, squirm around a bit, crawl on occasion within about a 4 foot radius, but now, she's non stop moving.
She is attracted to turning the stereo on and off. Our stereo is strategically placed about 3 inches off the ground. She is also drawn to the CD/DVD shelf which also has shelves starting at about 3 inches off the ground, perfect baby height.
I've resorted to taking the cushion used for our patio set and placing them around the said areas to deter her. She just knocks them down, pillows are not a good means of defense, I may have to opt to build a moat around any areas that I don't want her to go near.
Also, with this new found love of movement, it requires me to change some of my older habits. For example, putting Zoey in the corner of the couch for brief moments.
How did I learn that this technique no longer works, read on.
So, I'm about to go get some groceries, which I do about 5 times a week because I have no forethought when it comes to what to eat the next day and so on. I just finished feeding Zoey and wanted to run the Roomba while I was gone. I put Zoey on the ground and our pugs instantly swarm her trying to eat every last crumb off her pants, face and hands. Thinking they may end up biting her by accident, I put her up on the couch.
Watching her the whole way, I walk behind the couch to get the Roomba. The second I bend down out of her sight, all I hear is a dense thud, then screaming.
Awesome, Zoey has crashed on to the ground... way to go, Hanson, you've given your daughter brain damage.
I rush over to her and start comforting her, feeling horrible. As I watched the small goose egg on her head form I felt like I was going to vomit. All I could think was in a few years from now when her teacher takes me aside and tells me that my daughter is a little remedial, it'll be all my fault.
After a few minutes she calmed down and reluctantly I headed out to the grocery store, thinking, if she passes out, at least you're on the road and you can just head to the hospital.
Fearing I've given her some kinda of head trauma and the death of my daughter will be on my shoulders, while driving, I continually shouted her name for a reaction out of her to make sure she is still alive.
At the grocery store, everything seemed fine. She was her normally happy self. I started to forget about the thud of the hardwood floor that echoed through my brain.
As we're leaving, I'm pushing the grocery cart through the parking lot, I'm watching her pretty closely just to monitor her, then, she starts closing her eyes. I know she's not tired, cuz she just went for a nap about 30 minutes ago, I panic.
I start repeating her name over and over again, her eyes still closed. With the increase in my blood pressure, I go right for her eyes and start prying them open while still saying her name.
She's smiles at me, her gap tooth goofy grin, but still won't open her eyes.
Is she fucking with me? A sign of intelligence or not, I am concerned for your life here.
Then, I notice she is kinda looking over me. I turn and look over my shoulder and notice that the sun is blasting her in the face and therefore she can't open her eyes.
I quickly put her in the car and hope that no one saw my breakdown and called child services on me for attempting to pry open the eyes of my baby while yelling her name repeatedly in her face.
On Saturday we picked up a baby octagonal prison. No longer does she have access to the stereo, shelves and dog water and she is ready to commence her UFC training. We went out and got some foam squares and cut them to fit the cage. Up next, some gloves and our first televised fight night. I'm thinking she can spar with the dogs to get ready.
Bring on the baby fights!
Just so you guys are all aware, next Thursday will be the first full day I have with Zoey. The wife has an event after work, so, time to sink or swim with getting her to sleep in her crib, which, I still have yet to successfully do.