Ladies and gentlemen, the craziness has begun.
Last Wednesday afternoon was a frantic surge of baby-proofing activity. I came home, and Steve was holding a squirrely baby in his arms. "She's been crazy," he said. Nothing was sacred anymore!
So I set about my experiment: put Ruthie in the middle of each room, and see what she goes to grab. It worked quite well, and of course she's always discovering new ways to potentially harm herself. The bathroom is completely off-limits. Dad's instruments are sort of okay, but if she gets violent, she can't make noise on them anymore. My computer is--happily--impervious to her at the moment, and we've taped down and/or hidden all electrical wires so that she can't chew herself into a shock.
It's thrilling, though, to be able to put her on the floor, and say, "Come here, baby!" And she comes. Just like a dog. Except she's a human being.
She'll follow me from room to room, especially if I talk to her the whole time. She wants to be with us. She wants to know what we're doing. It's awesome.
