Preston officially went 'live' last evening, although his crawling was similar to that of a drunk teenager at his first party. P'Dub would take off wobbly, smiling and laughing, fall down or face plant, and pop back up smiling and laughing. Which was initially cute, but now I've realized this is the start of a never-ending chase.
This chase is going to cause me to be an entirely new type of uptight. Now I'll constantly worry if he's going to knock his teeth out or eat a carpet tack. I mean, can a house really be 100% baby proof? I think not.
Today was spent tearing Preston away from electrical cords, pulling him out from under the bar stools, and yanking him out from under his Jumparoo.
I can't even go to the bathroom without containing the child. Clearly he needs a cage!