Baby Gate, Imprisoning Me, All That I See, Absolute Horror!

1

Symbolism.

On May 15, 2016, the universally (but mostly just me) despised baby gate made its triumphant return to the top of our stairway. It was a sad, sad day.

At some point over the last two weeks or so, both Cole and Avery developed the ability to not-quite-crawl on the living room floor. Neither of the twins use their legs to move around the house; the rely exclusively on their upper body strength to drag themselves across the blankets and carpet. It’s a kind of strength I myself do not possess, but in my own defense, I have the kind of gut and ass that the twins don’t possess. It’s a wash.

Is the baby gate the devil I make it out to be? No, probably not, but it is an inconvenience that makes traveling up and down the stairs more cumbersome and also dramatically increases the odds that I will be hit in the crotch by a swinging piece of sturdy metal. Obviously, this is a situation I’d like to avoid if at all possible.

“The baby gate is so cool!” Madison said when she saw it being re-erected at the top of the stairs. “Oh yeah?” I said. I morphed into evangelical preacher mode. “You just wait until you’re carrying something upstairs with both hands. We’ll see how cool the gate is then,” I said. Madison’s face crumpled into my trademark smirk of disdain. “Then you just put one bag down, open the gate, and pick the bag up again!” she said. She said these words in such a matter-of-fact manner that it’s like she totally forgot she’s the person who audibly groans whenever she has to put her frickin’ Icee down to open the door in the garage. Look, I’m not here to impugn my 8-year old daughter’s logic and reasoning skills, but she’s also the same person who was involved in the the following two conversations this weekend:

Friday
Lynnette: I took Madison to the dentist today.
Phil (to Madison): Oh, how’d the dentist go?
Madison: Pretty good!
Lynnette: She needs another filling.

Saturday
Phil: Well, what do you guys want to eat for lunch today?
Madison: McDonald’s.
Lynnette: We’re not eating McDonald’s.
Madison: C’mon, mom!
Lynnette: Madison, weren’t you the one telling us not to eat fast food because it has chemicals?
Madison (pauses): That was two weeks ago, mom!

We’ll see how Madison feels about the baby gate in a week or so.

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