Adam can get onto the couches by himself now. He still mashes his face into the cushion while hiking one leg as high as he can to drag his body up, but he can do it with no help anymore. I should be cheering this accomplishment with super happy words but really, I’m not so jazzed.
The couch was my little oasis where I could put things out of his reach and get stuff done. The remote is no longer safe from grabby hands. My cell phone has been snatched repeatedly from the top of the couch because I forgot that, oh yeah, the kid can climb now. I used to lay the piles of laundry I just took out of the dryer on the back of the couch until I got it all separated. That pile ended up being dragged back down and depiled. My beautiful stacks!
I also can no longer eat in peace. I used to eat on the couch and feed Adam some tidbits when he showed interest. He would mostly play with his toys and I’d get a meal in. Today? He climbed up onto the couch, then shoved his way onto my lap making a “nom!, nom!, nom!, nom!” noise and ate about half of what I had. This is after HIS lunch, by the way. It’s not like my bottomless pit kid was hungry because he ate everything I put in front of him today!
I suppose I shouldn’t lament him eating too much. Especially since he’s, you know, eating. I’ll have to rethink everything I do now. The remote goes up on the fireplace mantel or the counter, and I’ll leave my phone in my purse (although Adam is almost tall enough to reach that too!). This will buy me a couple months right?
Unless of course he develops Spiderman-like abilities and climbs the walls. I’ll be on the lookout for radioactive spiders.