AUGH!

I don't know what y'all do with your kids when you need to use the facilities, but as a rule I plunk Dawson in front of the TV with a sippy and some puffs and void as quickly as I can, praying for minimum damage when I return. He can climb out of his crib, playpen, and high chair so there really is no 'safe'  place for him. But alas, mamma has to pee. Today we reached a new level of 'OMG, is this really what the rest of my life is going to be like??'

He seemed happy enough with his snack, watching Caillou. But when I came back from the washroom (15 feet away for maybe 30 seconds) he wasn't there. I listened for his typical rustlings- nothing. I called to him- no reply. Just as my heart was beginning to beat a little quicker, I glanced at the front door.

It was open.

My heart officially jumped into my throat.

I bolted out the door in my PJs, thanking God that my incredibly fashionable gay neighbours are in Boston. (Whether I can keep their plants alive while they're gone is a topic for another day.) My apartment is pretty much in the middle of the hall, and I can see down to one door to the stairwell. No baby. I ran to the other side of the hall (which is offset, and not visible from my place) and there he was, trying to open the door to the garbage chute. He succeeded just as I reached him, and man was he pissed when I took him back to our apartment. Despite looking like an angelic little elf, this kid has a mean temper on him!!

So, the front door now must stay locked at all times. This isn't the first time he's opened the door, but it's the first time he's gone on an adventure with his new-found freedom. He's not even 15 months yet. I don't even want to think about what the teen years have in store.