Ladies and Gentlemen, brace yourselves:
A baby is coming to visit our apartment.
The apartment Gary and I live in is quite possibly the least baby and child friendly place in the entire universe. We live on the 23rd floor. It's full of expensive, jaggedy electronics and a floor-to-ceiling unsecured bookcase.
Not to mention the magnetic knife rack gracing the kitchen.
I have visions of a wee toddling tyke stabbing himself, tipping over hundreds of heavy dvds onto his head, and then pitching headfirst through the patio door off the balcony.
Fortunately said tyke is 2 months old, and Gary assures me he's not walking yet. I still have time to baby-proof this shack up.
For now, I'm just making sure all the liquor is out of reach. Babies are wiley little things. You can never be too sure...
2 days ago