Plan J

We have lived in our tri-level house for nearly six years. During the toddlerhoods of the three oldest boys the stairs have presented safety challenges. It was always a fine balance between blocking them off and letting the little guys have access—they can’t learn how to negotiate stairs if they can’t practice, well-supervised of course. Somehow we managed to keep them off the stairs with a baby gate or a Pack n’ Play shoved in front.

Then Joel came along.

He must have been eyeing the stairs from his earliest newborn days, plotting ways to go up and down because nothing has stopped the boy. Right now we literally have the baby gate, the dog’s crate, the swing, the coffee table (tipped on it’s side), the vacuum cleaner, and a big pile of coats all blocking the stairs. Has it stopped him? Not even a little bit.

The rest of us have to trip our way through this Marine boot camp-worthy obstacle course all day long. Once the kids are in bed hubby and I dismantle the maze. We enjoy an hour or two of free stair-climbing without having our pant legs snag on the door of the dog’s crate as we do high kicks over the coffee table. Thank goodness for the enormous pile of winter coats or those face-plants would hurt a lot more.

We are rapidly running out of large but moveable objects to add to the conglomeration of would-be Joel-stoppers. The piano? The kitchen table? The minivan? All seem like reasonable solutions at this point.

His wheels are constantly turning though. If any toddler could find a way to scale a minivan with a piano or two stacked on top, it would be our Joel. In a bizarre way, I am proud of his persistence in the face of obstacles. I admire his can-do spirit, his bravery, and his resilience. He sees the goal (the crystaline waters flowing in the toilet, so fun to splash, so alluring, flush, flush, flush) but not the barriers in the way.

So here we are, at Plan J. Plans A-I haven’t worked so well. I hope the oil leak in the minivan doesn’t stain the living room carpet too badly.