This is not a post about fast-food hamburgers, although I kind of wish it was.
This is a post about keeping up with the toddler -- about strapping him in or keeping him out.
I have said this before, and I will say it again, but Gavin is equal parts delightful and exasperating.
Today, the delightful comes in the form of wearing a coat and beanie around the house while pulling behind him a suitcase full of toys. And employing his new vocabulary by talking to my friend on the phone. And asking me to "kiss it" when he conks his head on the edge of the counter (he's the perfectly awful height for forehead bruises these days).
Today, the exasperating comes in the form of playing in the bathroom sink, Lexi's crib, and most especially the refrigerator. Last week Garry bought some fabulous locks for the pantry. They are the perfect solution for the bi-fold doors, the perfect way to keep Gavin out of the goldfish crackers and the flour and the granola bars. I love them, I love them, I love them.
Have I mentioned that I love them?
I also love the new high chair in our house -- the first high chair we've owned, which we purchased for Wild Child #3. This high chair is akin to Fort Knox. It keeps Gavin IN. He can't get out. Meal times are more peaceful. He doesn't throw his tray of food across the room. And it comes in handy when I need a shower or want to sweep the floor. IN is a good thing.
But I digress.
Because pantry locks have kept Gavin out of the pantry, he has been on the hunt for new forms of mischief. Today he has remembered the refrigerator. It's a treasure trove of naughtiness-in-the-making -- bags of grapes and other fresh produce, eggs, condiments, milk, and leftovers. Gavin knows he can't just walk up to the fridge while I'm in the room. So he waits. The second I move to switch the laundry or make a bed or change a (smaller) diaper or answer the phone, he's in the fridge. Last time I used the bathroom I came out to find three bottles of salad dressing, BBQ sauce, and mustard on the kitchen table. I found a tomato and apple on the floor, one bite taken from each.
In the absence of a better solution, I have resorted to creativity born of desperation.
This is a belt, folks.
And it works.
And Gavin is not happy.
(But I am.)