So the kid's been pulling herself up on the edge of the sofa all week, just jonesing to climb up on the seat. Then she scrambles to climb over the back, or the arm or whatever precipice is handy. She seems utterly fearless, showing only the slightest hesitation before attempting to launch herself into space. Needless to say, this week has involved a lot of catching.
A lot, but not enough. I sat her in the middle of the bed, where she's gone a hundred times, easy; I knelt down to pull stuff from under the bed, and in a split second, she made a mad dash crawl for the edge of the bed...and she went straight over and landed smack on her back on a sheepskin rug. Several minutes of screaming and cringing later (which felt like agonizing hours to the guy who watched her go over), she seemed fine, but still. My sister-in-law swears she sticks her tongue out sideways now, "just like when Dr. Green on ER's aneurysm got really bad." Gee, thanks a lot.
If she doesn't get into Harvard, it's all my fault.
Congratulations on the walking!
Everything changes now ... the official range of destruction just got a whole lot more complex.
I installed some gates in our place... they've got them at the usual local places, but I recommend Safety Depot - http://www.safetydepot.com/.
No tax and very low prices for baby proofing. I did the outlets and gated all the key areas with massive cable exposure from my gadgetry.
Don't worry! I have a daddy friend who let his daughter roll off the changing table into the GARBAGE CAN. He still looks extremely guilty when we tease him about it.
I was just talking to some friends this weekend who call what you're going through "Broken Baby Syndrome". They were telling my wife (7 months pregnant) and I to relax about being afraid we'll break the baby when you try to put on a Baby Bjorn and the kid's neck flops about or he topples over and smack his head on the hardwood floor. Apparently the little critters are pretty resilient, no matter how much they try to convince you otherwise with all that caterwauling.
At age one, I was strapped in the car seat when my dad took the car seat out of the car. He put the car seat on top of the car, and went into the house. And I was still in the car seat. When he entered the house, my mom said, "Where is Jennifer?" and my dad was puzzled...then realized what he'd done. They rushed out to find me still in the car seat, but now on the driveway as I had somehow launched myself off the car.
So I blame my dad for not getting into Harvard or not having the high powered job I always wanted.