Tuesday, July 17, 2012

Hurricane Cooper

Well.  We have reached that stage.  The one that will last for the next 2 years or so.  The one where Cooper needs TOTAL SUPERVISION AT EVERY MOMENT.

When he first started to crawl and stand, Cooper was adorably reticent, and he stayed close to our legs at all times, content to paw through the tupperware cabinet and the kids' dishes cabinet and leave the rest of our stuff alone. 

Then he started to fall in love with outlets.  Then with the breakable bakeware cabinet.  The the pantry, where he loves nothing more than to throw glass jars of baby food on the floor.  The he started crawling everywhere all the time, meaning the floors are always streaked with drool and speckled with fat baby hand and knee prints.

No drawer is safe, no basket left untouched, no cabinet in tact.  I turned my head for two seconds while getting dressed the other morning, and he sucked on a perfume bottle and had Coco breath til lunch.

And the food!  I love trying to tempt his palate with new tastes and textures (plums: yes; peaches: yes; cottage cheese: yes; watermelon:  yes; cherry tomatoes:  bitch, please), but every meal is a little messier than the one before.

The kid is a disaster. 

Teeth (huge ones, top front) are messing with his sleep, so I have been joining him for his second nap.  But that means I have to get all of my housework done during his first nap, which is nearly impossible because there is so! much! more! work!

Behold:  photographic evidence:


  1. Holy shit, you mean to tell me this stage lasts for TWO YEARS? I'm screwed.
    Ella has been in that stage for at least a few months now, but she likes to end it with a nice loud fit when I try to stop her. It's so charming, I've only considered leaving her in Target two or seven times.

  2. "Cherry tomatoes: bitch please!" Literally snorted. Because you know that's exactly what they're thinking. Good luck with the mini-huricane!

  3. OMG we are in the thick of the total supervision stage right now and we are on vacation in a tchotchke filled summer cottage filled with staircases and exterior doors that don't latch. It's exhausting. I am counting the minutes until two and a half.

  4. I am allllllllmost out of this stage. 99 percent of the time Maeve is able to play nicely without me watching her. But then she does something insane like eating dirt.

    Can we gate them all in a babyproofed room at your place and drink wine in a few weeks?