It’s been a little over a month since our first ER visit with a child so I suppose Miss A is ripe for a new black eye, facial laceration, or some other general heart stoppage inducing moment.
A few weeks ago she was in her bedroom playing and it dawned on me suddenly that the sweet, pleasant silence meant she was SURELY UP TO NO GOOD.
I went in her room and found her puttering around, quite proud of the “ladder” she’d constructed by stacking a bed pillow, a small fuchsia pillow, and a small doll-size chair on top of a OH SH*T and I talked to her about asking for mommy’s help the next time she needed to get something out of reach and told her she could have really hurt herself.
This seemed to sink in and she told me she was sorry.
Then last week I was putting laundry away and I walked in to see this in front of her closet. Definitely not as dangerous as the chair stacked on top of another chair on top of two pillows episode from a few weeks ago, but still. I detect a pattern. And not a good one.
I’m thinking I just need to put a step ladder in her bedroom and let her have at it. Either that or go ahead and remove any tempting objects from out of reach shelves and make her wear a bicycle helmet every time she’s left alone in her bedroom.
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