My counter tops have always been sort of a safe haven for things – things I didn’t want Avery or the dogs to get at.
But I learned a long time ago that the dogs (well Montana), motivated by FOOD, could beat the odds at how far back I placed a cupcake, cookie, and meat cut up for dinner and GET IT! So I resorted to putting stuff in the microwave or on top of the fridge. Avery, on the other hand, wasn’t a problem. Until recently.
At first she would surf the counter with her hands while standing on her tip toes. And I warned her that there could be something sharp up there. And she stopped. At this point I made sure everything was out of reach of her little arms. And it worked…for a little while at least.
My resouceful little angel has now figured out how to get her whole self up on the counters. She has become (GASP!) A CLIMBER. I thought I was so lucky to have a child who didn’t climb everything in sight. But now with the quick push of a chair – she gets up there lickity split.
Let’s talk about Friday morning. I was getting ready for work. Avery should have been at school, letting my routine be uninterupted as usually is the case on Friday mornings. But school was closed b/c it was so flipping cold outside. So I improvised, as a mom often has to do. I put on her Barbie movie and ran upstairs to finish my hair and makeup. About 10 minutes later the following occurs…
“Mommy, can you please get me down?”
“Down from where, Avery?”
“The kitchen counter, Mommy…”
So I trot down to the kitchen, prepared to give my standing lecture on why it’s not safe to climb on the counter (knives, you could fall, blah blah blah) when I notice the wrappers. Two wrappers. Pink and white. And I look at Avery who is chewing a BIG PINK WAD. My bubble gum, my secret passion, Original Flavor Hubba Bubba. It had been stashed, out of the reach of little hands. I immediately make her spit it out. But she only produced once piece.
“Avery, where is the other piece of bubble gum?”
Smiling, mischievously, she pats her tummy. OH SHIT!
I grab the phone and call the peditrician. The nurse assures me that she will be ok, maybe a tummy ache. I hang up and sigh a breath of relief. (Heck, I swallowed my fair share of gum, but not at 3 1/2)
But to Avery I say…
“Avery Marie, this is why you don’t chew gum! You can’t swallow it! I had to call the doctor!”
And her eyes got big and teary. She thought the doctor was going to have to take it out (much like the orange playdough last summer). But I told her that we didn’t have to go. But she couldn’t do that ever again. I think she got the point.
And now I am simply waiting for the big pink poop. And in the meantime, maybe she’ll blow a bubble from her rear. But let’s hope not.
(Let the search terms have fun with this post, my friends!)