Safe Place

There were no safe places, neither for me to hide in nor for my valuable ornaments.  Once Small could move he was everywhere at ground level.  Once he could climb he was everywhere.  True, there were some high shelves I could squeeze ornaments onto but Small soon devised a way to knock them down.  Either he constructed some form of trebuchet to hurl wooden bricks or would pull the cat’s tail so that it bolted to safety on the high shelf, hurling everything to the floor in the process.

And as he grew more adventurous he discovered me skulking in the toilet and eventually even found my bolthole in the shed.

Not so much a parenting guide full of advice, more the reality of parenting kids and being a house husband and father, written by a stay at home dad to three children.

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