Mark and I have put the finishing touches on some partitions. A little glue, scissors, and some fabric and paper (OK, and a poster of a Perugino Madonna) and voila! Baby safety on a shoestring budget. We use them to keep Arthur away from the baseboard heaters. And the computer cords. And the bookcase. And the CD rack. We've come to the conclusion that cardboard is our friend, and that we can build baby furniture out of it at a fraction of the cost that it would be if we purchased plastic baby furniture. I think a collection of cardboard panels and arches could make an effective labyrinth.
Arthur has decided that the bathroom is his favorite forbidden place to explore. I'm not sure if under the sink, in the bath tub, the toilet or the kitty litter box is the shining treasure that makes him squeal with delight when the bathroom door is opened. Mark insists that Arthur is fascinated by watching us urinate. When I use the bathroom, Arthur bangs against the door, and his little fingers push through the gap between the door and the floor. All I know is that it's like being in a zombie movie.
Arthur does like his baby gate, though -- to climb up on. The other day he managed to push it over. It fell with him still clinging to it. I think he might have invented a new kind of carnival ride. At least he landed on it and not the other way around.
I've found a new secret vice: the iTunes store. I can download songs straight to my mini iPod. Bad songs. Naughty, evil, wicked songs. Songs that I would never, ever play on the stereo in front of Arthur. And I can't. There's no CD -- just evil wickedness from a business card sized chunk of white plastic straight into my ears. And possibly the best thing about it is that I can listen in front of Arthur and he doesn't really care.
I think Mark might be grateful. I happen to like Juno Reactor, a techno-dance group. On a good day, Mark says that they're boring. On a less good day, he calls the general corpus of their songs "music to do drugs by," and two in particular the "Mommie, why is the bad man chasing us" song and the "It's not 'Who Died,' it's 'Who's Going To Die.'" song. Can I help it if the only place to dance in Eugene closed several years ago and Eugene has never recovered?
I just happen to own one of their CD's, Labyrinth. Maybe I'll have to play it for Arthur when he's playing with the cardboard panels we've decorated. Naw. I'll just give him some puppets to play with and put on some David Bowie.