Now that Annie is three feet tall, we have reached a dangerous spot. Mike says the dangerous spot is that she’s going to be taller than me in just a few years (haha, sooooo funny). She seemed to grow almost overnight, so she just does not know how to deal with all of her height.
The worst thing is when she hits her head. She used to be able walk right underneath the counter on the kitchen island, but yesterday she was walking over to where I was and decided to take the scenic route under the counter. Before I could stop her, she slammed her head into the side of the island. Oh the screaming and the drama! She kept shooting daggers at the counter, as if it was a dirty trick and the counter had gotten smaller instead of her getting bigger.
She has also realized that with her longer arms she can reach onto counters and grab things her lazy parents didn’t put away (or put farther from the edge). Sometimes it’s something benign like a hair brush or a book. But other times it’s toothpaste, or a pen, or deodorant. Occasionally she’ll run over to one of us to show us her new prize, or sometimes we’re lucky enough to discover it smashed onto the wall or floor. Yaaaay.
There are two drawers in our kitchen that we don’t have child locks on. Partly because we ran out of child locks, and partly because we don’t keep anything harmful in them. Annie is now tall enough to look into the drawers. Which is all well and good, except the stuff we keep in there are DVD cases, a can opener, twist ties, etc. She’ll come over to us with an ABC DVD and the can opener and say, “Rigby’s hungry! Watch ABCs?”
All joking aside, though, the counter vs head situation is getting a little out of control. She hit her head seven freaking times yesterday! I jokingly put her bike helmet on her yesterday and let her run around the house with that on, but the little fashionista won’t stand for wearing the helmet (or anything, really) for more than ten minutes.
I am now accepting bets for how many times she’ll run into the counter before she learns that the counter doesn’t move. She’s like a tiny drunk person looking to pick a fight.