fenced in

You are moving pretty much where you want, pulling up on things, teetering from one hand-hold to another, opening cabinets and crawling at breakneck speed. So we had to install a gate to keep you out of the construction zone of a hallway. You pulled up on it and then crouched down all the way to your belly and peered under as if you’d processed in your head that you couldn’t go through or over it and were calculating the possibilities of going under it. It was priceless. Must not have been able to imagine fitting under, because you have not shown much interest in the gate or that cordoned off section of the house since.

You are unstoppable, and you seem to have no regard for me telling you no or popping your little hand with the warning. You turn, look at me, sometimes grin and keep right on doing what you want. Your mammy, my momma, says I was the exact same way, and she says it as if it were inevitable and some sort of historical justice that I should experience the same behavior in my child.