I haven’t found the humor in this, and probably never will, but felt it worthy to share.
I’ve always thought that our house is childproofed. All the electrical covers are in place (even though I know that the children have the capability to pry them off…with their teeth), medicine is up high, matches are so well hidden that even I have no idea where they are, and you get the point I’m sure.
Today my son found a flaw in my otherwise failproof safety system.
I was finishing up school with the girls, and Jensen was quietly playing in his room.
The “quietly” should have given me cause for alarm, but I could hear him merrily chirping away as he turned his matchbox cars into small killing machines.
The quiet was shattered by a loud crashing, followed by a four year olds screams. I broke the “no running in the house” rule and dashed back to his room.
We had gotten Jensen some new bedroom furniture a couple of months ago. (Yes, I’ve been promising pictures and have yet to produce.) One piece of furniture included a tall dresser with 5 drawers. We placed the dresser against the wall, with nothing heavy on top (for safety reasons you know). Directly in front of his dresser is the end of his bed, which rests on the floor. Some day, when he is older, and I am more agile, we’ll turn his bed into the high captain’s bed that it is meant to be.
Evidently, young Jensen opened all 5 of his drawers at once, causing the entire system to fall over onto the footboard of his bed.
The only reason that Jensen wasn’t trapped underneath, was that I had strategically placed a laundry basket full of unfolded clothes in front of it, against the wall.
Therefore, he was standing to the side of his dresser when it fell over.
It was quite heavy. In fact, it took both Emme and I to lift it back in place.
Mr. Drill has made a guest appearance as I install tip proof straps to all Jensen’s furniture. Once I stopped shaking and could actually hold Mr. Drill steady without adding another hole to my own head.
When the girls were small, I did have their furniture strapped to the wall. But I just hadn’t gotten around to strapping Jensen’s yet. Which is insane. Because just the mention of Jensen’s name should invoke fear and panic in any reasonable mother’s heart.
We were very lucky. I have only one broken drawer, a scuffed wall, a scared little boy, and 45 more gray hairs to show for my carelessness.
Let this serve as a little warning, moms. Walk around your house and recheck your safety system.
My tip of the day.