Gates and Locks? (Shrug)

When I used to overhear people talking about childproofing, I generally would fade into the background.  It was a foreign concept to me.  My older boy was always sensible and risk-averse. He never climbed bookshelves, and in fact, lectured me at age 3 about the safety of electric sockets (see http://lomoma.blogspot.com/2009/04/how-electricity-works.html.) My middle daughter had to be tied to her high chair everywhere we went, but even so, we didn't have to really childproof for her either. Instead, we depended on lengthy logic-based lectures to help them learn to avoid danger.  We discussed why it was important to take care of our belongings, not to climb on furniture, and avoid sharp objects.  When things became safe for Michael but were still potentially harmful to Allison, we would throw in, "plus, you don't want to set a bad example for your little sister and have her get hurt!" And it generally worked. Maybe it's because they learned to avoid the long lectures (you should have heard the one I gave my son about interest rates), but they're alive and well as I type.

Safety first! (Max speed 0.5 mph)

So, when the twins came along, we thought we would just play it by ear, with the hubris of parents who have seen it, been there, done it. We'd never had a baby gate, so we didn't go out of our way to become overly, or let's face it, adequately prepared.  We were open to the idea of childproofing, but never really took any proactive steps to prepare for twin toddlerhood.


It turns out that Julia is a climber of couches, chairs, and kitchen tables.  She will climb onto the sofa and lean precariously over to reach the mantle, where she likes to practice chin-ups. It's really amazing how much upper body strength she has. Matthew on the other hand likes to get into things and figure them out with his hands- more of a fine motor gadget guy.  He loves to find bottles of things like shampoo and suck on the caps. I've gotten to the point where I think to myself, "Oh, it's just baby shampoo. That's non-toxic."   Julia could care less about shampoo bottles, but she likes to play in toilets. This is generally heralded by eerie silence and the sudden realization that she is not within visual range.   Even worse, our oldest will generally let it mellow if it's yellow.  And, Julia seems to have impeccable timing, because she always seems to get into the toilet JUST BEFORE we are about to be late getting out the door.

We try to warn our guests to give themselves plenty of time...

So, now we have baby gates. We have toilet locks. We have latches on some drawers and cabinets. (Many of them even work.) I'm 100% sure that the parents out there who are good baby-proofers would still be horrified and panicky if they came to my house, because our bookshelves aren't bolted to the walls, and we have cords laying around everywhere, just for starters. A friend of mine came over with her baby, and pulled out multiple small choking hazards that we had mixed in with the baby toys.  To be fair, sometimes it's hard to keep stuff separated with the two older children.  Legos and Barbie shoes can easily escape their rooms.  But, a couple of Julia's tumbles down the stairs generated visions of permanent neurological injuries flashing through my head.  We now have three baby gates and toilet locks, and we remain humbled at the sheer amount of energy it takes to keep track of twins.

This is what they think of baby gates.

The other day we visited some family friends from my parents' generation, and as soon as I walked in the door, I ran ahead ("Hi, so great to see you!") and shut all the doors in the hallway, moved a bunch of breakables onto their mantle, and scooted the ottoman strategically to minimize climbing. I literally was sweating because I was moving so fast. Or possibly because I still haven't lost all my babyweight and it takes more energy to move at lightening speed. Anyway, all that effort, only to have them give them some "toys" to play with, namely, their choice of squeaky dog chew toys or colorful plastic fish attached to sharp sticks.  Shrug.

These bookshelves used to be filled with books, but Julia would try to climb them.