Mini Heartattacks

Yes - plural. Heart attackS!

Now that the Munch is mobile I am on constant alert. In my perfect dream world, I can work in the kitchen while J plays on his car mat and there are no fears of him crawling into the garbage can or chewing on drawer handles or rummaging through my plastic bag holder. Yes, I said Perfect Dream World.

The reality of the situation is, I am on the clock even when working in the kitchen. Unless J is in his constraints, I mean his car exer saucer, I have about 30 seconds to clean my kitchen. Do you think Mary Poppins is for hire? I could use her magical wonderness around my house.

Let's just say that this weekend, I experienced the mother of all heart attacks thus far. So much the mother that I am still on guard and watching him like a hawk for any signs of ... I really don't know. Just signs.

I have tried to mentally prepare myself for what I envision J will throw at me as he begins walking. Already there is a gleam in his eye that has translated into him hanging from swings, crawling out of bathtubs, etc. You know? The no-fear type. The type that will find his way into trees and onto rooftops. Ergh - I feel the heart attack coming on.

 So from my paranoia I have decided that someone (someone with a techy brain - opposite of me) out there needs to start selling baby clothes that have battery operated warning systems built in so that whenever the little tazmanian devil is on the loose, you will be notified IN ADVANCE before any crazy crashes incur and actually have time to respond PRO-actively. Or maybe suction cup/sticky grip sleepers for the climbers.

OR how about duct tape? Hmmm...

See the daredevil gleam in his eyes?!
He's just waiting for the right opportunity to jump out and climb the nearest roof!

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