Mia has a little stool. It’s her new favourite toy. It is a cheap white fold up one that stands about a foot off
the ground and was probably purchased on sale at Canadian Tire sometime last
year in my post partum sleep deprivation.
We leave it by her change table so Toby could climb up and kiss her good
night when we changed her into her sleep sac for the night. She now uses it to get into her own
type of mischief.
The stool is collapsible and the top turns into a
handle. At first when I saw her
waddling around the house with her little stool at her side I thought it was rather
cute; she looked like she was carrying a briefcase and was heading out to do
some business.
Little did I know that was EXACTLY what she was setting out
to do.
When I went to investigate the first bit of eerie silence
(YOU know the kind, parents) I came out into the front hall just in time to see
all three paintings SWINGING precariously on the wall. Mia was standing on her stool at the
base of the third one. She had
placed the stool under each one, climbed up, and given the painting a good
shove with all of her might. The eerie silence was broken by my own shriek followed by a wicked CACKLE from my
devilish daughter.
The next time I saw her grab the stool, having learned
NOTHING from the swinging painting incident, I found her a few minutes later
standing triumphantly on the dining room table, reaching up to grab the
chandelier. I don’t know if she had
intended to swing on it or change a light bulb, but I didn't hesitate long enough to find out. This time, she had quite cleverly
moved her little stool beside one of the dining room chairs and climbed up onto
that before hoisting herself onto the table. It was a well thought out, somewhat ingenious three-step process and unfortunately mean old mommy stepped in just in time to ruin the grand finale. (As always!)
Although it is quite endearing, watching her walk around
with her pot belly hanging out over her diaper, suitcase-stepstool at her side
and a look of sheer devilish determination on her face, I just can’t risk
seeing what she has in mind next.
The step stool is now in
the closet with other forbidden toys such as “pop up books” and old school lego pieces.
Ah, the things we learn as parents…
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