That Moment

It's that moment when you realize that nothing will be the same ever again. You were hoping that it could be avoided for just a bit longer. You live in a state of denial that it's not happening, but know inside that it's really only a matter of time. And then the moment happens. That moment when you realize that nothing is safe. That moment when your child finally figures out how to climb up onto every chair in the house and uses said chairs as a means to climb up onto even higher pieces of furniture, like tables, or to access breakable items that you previously thought were out of reach. You go through the stages of loss - denial ("I'm sure you won't be able to reach that bottle of wine."), anger ("No Isaac! We don't climb on the table."), bargaining ("Mommy needs you to stay on the ground now so we can play a really fun game."), depression ("WWHHHHYY!@#&*!!"), and finally acceptance (I'm not sure if it's acceptance or just submission at this point). Yup, life will never be the same. I think the answer is to hang more shelving, really high shelving, and possibly move to a more Japanese way of life and sit on mats and pillows instead of chairs.

Look Mama, I moved the table and now I can get so much closer to all the items on the mantle. Isn't that great?