Baby? Um, No. More like DEVIL, er, I mean Toddler?

Why do they call it BABY proofing? I mean, seriously... BABIES do not need any sort of proofing or protection from much. They are slow and dumb. Babies lay in their little seats looking scrumptiously cute, cooing and waving their hands around. They also sleep. In reality, they are tricking you to fall so much in love with them, that all they need to do is smile, or puff out that lower lip in just that way when they hit that 'toddler' stage and begin to destroy every. thing. you. own. I think we should stop calling it BABY proofing, and start calling it demon seed Toddler proofing.

This morning we are camping somewhere in the central valley of California because my genius husband had the idea that he needed an auxiliary gas tank for his truck -- because when we tow our fifth wheel, we only get 13 to 14 mpg as opposed to the 20 that he normally gets on the highway. (Eat that Hemi Owners! Cummins diesel engines get BETTER gas mileage towing 15,000 pounds than your truck would if you were a 100 pound sissy girl!) At any rate, he's worried that if we go East, we might run into some uninhabited areas that have never heard of such a thing as diesel, or indoor plumbing, or McDonald's. You know, places like Utah, Nevada, Wyoming. Those places where you leave the gas station because they only had REGULAR Pepsi. So you're happy to wait until you can get to the gas station that sells DIET Pepsi, only to find that you have to drive another 300 miles before you see another car, 500 miles before you find a Gas Station that sells Diet Pepsi, and 2700 miles before you hit civilization again.

Where was I? Oh yeah. We're camping in the central valley of California. My husband is visiting STARBUCKS while they work on the truck. Meanwhile, I'm stuck at the campsite. With Little Monster. And Two hyper dogs. So, while I'm sitting here drinking my (badly) brewed coffee, He's sitting at Starbucks, looking at his Internet without interruptions. And now we're back to baby proofing, and the things I have to 'baby' proof, that I didn't have to baby proof in January when people didn't look at me crazy for calling the kid a 'baby.'

1. Locks. As in - the lock to the front door. The lock to the door that he knows how to open, that when it does open has three sharp edged metal stairs (just waiting to crack and break his precious perfect little skull) down to the rocky ground below. Traditional baby gates won't work. We have to buy one that will cost upwards of $100 for that door. So we haven't yet.
2. The DVD player, which he knows how to open. Usually opening of said DVD player is immediately followed by throwing DVDs across the room.
3. EVERY. SINGLE. CABINET. They aren't normal cabinets. You have to pull HARD to open these doors and drawers, because they're built to withstand being dragged down the road at excessively high speeds. But, an 18 month old can get them open. And take everything out. Pitchers, toasters, coffee pots, plates, bowls, silverware, sharp knives (the only drawers for that stuff are at knee level), cereal, animal cookies, peanut butter, dog treats, coffee filters -- have you gotten the idea yet? No? Okay. The dog food. The canister that has 34,238 pea sized bits of dog food.
4. The Water Heater Switch. In our fifth wheel, in the kitchen, there are two switches that turn the power on to the water heater. One turns it on using electricity, one turns it on using propane. Guess where they are? Right within reach!
5. The propane leak detector. Did you know that thing makes a VERY shrill sound when you push the button? Yeah? Neither did I. Until this morning.
6. The Dog Kennels. They're kept in a closet at home unless we need them, but here, we need them often. Little Monster likes to get into the kennels, then shut the door on himself. And then get REALLY. REALLY. MAD. because he can't get out. Not normal mad. Head spinning around, speaking in tongues, vomiting green stuff, exorcist kind of mad.
7. The dogs. They now need protection from an over excited child who thinks it is GREAT fun to chase them around giggling trying to grab their tails. Or, when they think they are safe, sleeping in their bed, someone thinks it's fun and games to jump on them and try to wrestle. Just like Daddy taught him.
   

It isn't all that bad. It isn't like he found some mystery thing in the dog kennel and then shoved it in his mouth, only to pretend to take whatever it was out when I asked him to show me what he was eating, only to swallow said item when I asked him to give it to me. It isn't like he's trying to crawl into the storage bench right now, and I'm thinking about letting him because then I might get 30 seconds where I didn't have to say STOP THAT! NO! NO! DON'T EAT THAT! THAT'S NOT SAFE! LITTLE MONSTER! NO! STOP! STOP! STOP! STOP! NO! LEAVE THE DOGS ALONE! THAT'S NOT SAFE! THAT GROWL MEANS NO! STOP! STOP!

Where are his toys you ask? He doesn't have any. We left them ALL at home. Except his tricycle, his tool box, 400 books, 300 blocks, an echo microphone, the entire car collection, the entire dinosaur collection, his stuffed dogs, his stuffed bear, his Lego's, his toy train, his sesame street figurines, his stacking cup collection, seven or eight giant stuffed blocks, a few happy meal toys, and....

Two cases of diet soda. Those blasted drawers! He's gotten them open again and now we're playing 24 can pick up. I think It's time for a walk. Maybe this place has a playground.

P.S. I DO NOT really think Babies are dumb. I love love love babies. They are sweet, cute, and lovable. BUT they haven't learned much yet, including how to move around, and how to get into things. THAT's why I called them dumb. They are only dumb in comparison, to say an 18 month old, or a fully grown adult. And that comparison, it isn't really fair.

P.S.S. I am a sissy girl, so I can say stuff like that!