Friends in high places

I have always thought that knowing people in high places would mean special privileges or unique experiences -- you know, like getting a sweet kickback, free-of-charge, just because of your association with that person.

Every day with Gavin is like this.

Today my boy discovered he can get to high places all by himself. Apparently climbing the fence on Tuesday gave him the confidence he needed to scale our kitchen cabinets. So, without assistance of stool or chair or human helper, Gavin now has access to all of the upper cabinets in the kitchen.

I discovered my boy's discovery during a morning meeting with a Realtor today. While she and I talked {depressing} numbers at the kitchen table, we heard a strange rattle. Robin the Realtor said, "Shall we check on Gavin together?" We walked around the corner and found Gavin standing on the counter, the corner cabinet door thrown open. In his hands was a new bottle of Children's Motrin. The lid was still on. I snatched it away, found something else to engage his interest, and moved on. Disaster averted.

Wrong.

An hour later, while whipping up a batch of cookies and talking to my mom on the phone (are there better remedies on a hard day?), I transferred dirty dishes to the sink. In the sink I found something really scary: an empty medicine bottle.


The missing medicine was Sulfameth, which was prescribed to Lexi when we thought she had a UTI. She had two doses before the culture came back negative. We stopped the meds and put them in the cabinet for next time. Turns out the "next time" was this morning when Gavin was thirsty for a little mischief.

Half an hour after discovering Gavin's hazardous activity, I was in a pediatrician's office finding out that Lexi had an ear infection. I asked the doctor about the Sulfameth. She was a little horrified...but said Gavin will be OK. He is likely going to have a sad weekend, GI-wise, but will probably be none the worse for wear.

My friend Melanie tells me that Gavin is going to grow up and find the cure to cancer. He'll become filthy rich and buy me a house or something grand like that. Maybe then he'll achieve my definition of having friends in high places.