Please don't report me

On Saturday morning, before putting Ida down for her nap, I saw something white near her tongue. She has been on a spit-up kick lately, so I wiped her mouth and put her to bed. She woke up chirping two hours later (in a room with flowers) (we've been reading Madeline...a lot) and while changing her diaper I noticed the white stuff in her mouth again. I reached in and took out a piece of paper. Wait, it had glitter on it. Wait, it was definitely chokeable size. Wait, it was a cardboard door which she had apparently ripped from Theo's advent calendar from last Christmas, which he still loves to play with so we've kept it in the toy box.

I put her down for a nap with a piece of glittery cardboard in her mouth. My shock turned to nervous laughter and I told Matt the story amid my "phew, that was a close one" titters. Later, a few hours after I put her to bed for the night (cardboard-free), I came tearily close to a panic attack as I realized . . . I put her down for a nap with a piece of glittery cardboard in her mouth.

Then Sunday afternoon, Matt called from the kitchen, "I'm not going to tell you what Theo just did." Of course, I had to know. He had walked into the kitchen to find Theo standing on a chair at the counter, slicing a pear. With a knife.

In case you weren't sure, I had considered our place childproofed. I am not a total ditz and I do generally notice when my children are in danger. However, Theo has always been fairly obedient and not too adventurous, so I haven't had to be ridiculously vigilant. I remember Sister C in my home ward telling a story about her niece's kids, who were constantly wreaking havoc in their house. Cautious Theo was probably 18 months old or so at the time, and I laughed a little at the story. Because--who is paying so little attention that their kids are posting stamps all over the front window or dumping gallons of corn syrup on the floor without being noticed?

Clearly I have been warned. Nothing makes a person more sympathetic and less apt to judge others--while at the same time, less sympathetic and more apt to judge others? What do you think?--than having kids of her own. . . . I've found that true for me. In that spirit, I hope you aren't too worried about my parenting skills. Maybe this was my initiation. My precious children have escaped death/serious injury despite my carelessness, and now I'm a real mom. I don't know if I'll sleep tonight.