Willow-proofing is a continuous, life-altering process. I think she's covered every inch of this house, going places I never knew existed. She's pulled up on, knocked over and tugged on chairs, cords, doors, knobs, lamps, pictures, books, coats, blankets, magazines, packages, boxes. Everything under the January sun, it seems. She's falling and tumbling and pulling small avalanches onto herself. Most times she cries. Sometimes she snorts and crawls off offended. Other times she laughs. Every time she repeats the offending activity, sometimes immediately, other times eventually. The house is ever-changing. Cherish and I don't recognize our house. We've installed safety latches, outlet covers and furniture bumpers. I've even draped comforters over our coffee tables to soften the impact of little heads on hard surfaces. I've moved lamps. I've relocated books. I've hidden furniture. I've thrown up unsightly obstacles to keep our little adventure...
A father's journey to finding the right words.