Safety-ing Up the Place

He's crawling.  For reals.  One hand in front of the other and everything.  

Additionally, upon arising from his nap a few afternoons ago, he greeted me--frog like--with feet underneath him and hands pulling up on the top bar of his crib.

Thus, this weekend's missions were a couple of safety to-do's--a gate for the top of the stairs, and changing the crib to it's lowered setting.

He likes the "new" crib.  I think he thinks it's a special club house just for him.  He hasn't noticed the gate, although Moe doesn't think much of it.

In other milestone-news, I had to tell him "no" for the first time this weekend, with disastrous results.

It wasn't really intentional.  We were hanging out on the bed Sunday evening.  He was playing, I was editing pictures on my laptop.  He crawled over to check out what I was doing, and started banging on the keyboard.

I didn't say it harshly, but--in retrospect--it's probably the most strongly anyone's ever spoken to him in his short little life.  His face did the slow melt from pout to trembling lip to inconsolable wail.  

I think I did well.  Because it was that time of night anyway, we started the bath, ba, and bedtime routine--with the screaming eventually subsiding to quiet sobs eventually subsiding to sleep.

And then I went downstairs and, all belle-like, made Sweet Husband pour me a drink to soothe my rattled nerves as we commiserated about how in the heck we're going to survive his teenage years....