We (Kurt) bought our Christmas tree on the 6th or 7th and then we decorated it on the 9th, so it had been ignored by Lukas for ten days before I finally started putting presents under it and then it still took a couple days before he went for it. He began to touch a present that just happened to be his. I very gently told him, “no no Lukas”. There was no way I could have said it any more gently. I’d have to whisper it outside to be more gentle. He stopped. He looked at me. His whole tiny face turned upside-down and he started crying. I told him he couldn’t touch the presents. I scooped him up and we cuddled. The poor little shit.
About three days later Lukas was playing his most beloved game of hiding his Legos (Duplo) in places they don’t belong. Under the couch, under end tables, under the armoire…you get the picture. On the floor next to the little stand that holds the DVR and DVD player Kurt has a sub-woofer. The sub-woofer has cute little hole in it (manufactured that way) that perfectly fits a baby arm. As far as Lukas is concerned, that hole is there for the sole purpose of hiding his Duplo blocks.
He set one at the edge of the hole and then pushed it in. He looked over at me and proudly smiled at his new favorite Duplo hiding place. I was quietly laughing at the baby. I told Kurt what Lukas was doing and Kurt firmly told the boy “no Lukas”. Lukas stopped. He hunched his tiny shoulders over. He started huffing. And after a couple minutes began bawling his head off complete with red face. I have a very sensitive boy.
On Friday my sensitive little dancing queen gave me a fucking heart attack! I was washing dishes and had the dishwasher door open. Lukas was on the opposite side of the dishwasher door from me putting his Duplo blocks in the silverware compartment. I go to wash a dish and as I turn to put the dish in the dishwasher, the boy had butt scooted to my side of the dishwasher and grabbed a knife. This wasn’t a butter knife, not a paring knife, nor a steak knife. No, my boy grabbed the chopping knife, a knife with a nine-inch blade. He held it by the handle and waved it around like a sword.
“NNNOOO!!! No no Lukas!”
Yeah there was no calm that time. The boy didn’t stop crying about being yelled at and having the knife taken away for a good fifteen minutes.
Of course, if he’s anything like his father I should be more worried about him with a perfectly safe spoon than an object that is actually dangerous.