"Oh pitiful...thy name is Micah!"

So, if you haven't been to our house recently, you don't know that it looks significantly different than it did a year ago, as in "pre-Micah-moving-around" time. There are gates on the kitchen entry's (not flimsy baby gates - built in, hinged-to-the-trim-and-made-of-solid-wood gates), new little doors on the entertainment center, closed bedroom doors and empty bookshelves, all of which are screwed to the wall. Baby-proofed is an understatement.

It is interesting, the reactions to the fortressifying (that's my new word) of our house. Most people laugh. Some seem mystified. A couple people, I think, don't think it's fair to Micah! Like his civil liberties are being infringed upon, by his being banished from most of the house. I guess these folks think he should have free reign. They probably think I am too lazy to keep an eye on him all the time. Maybe they assume I fence him into the living room so that I can take naps all day!

I don't really know what anyone is thinking, short of what they say, just like no one should presume to know what I am thinking if they don't ask. But I won't go there today. All I'll say is, if you have a kid like Micah, you will nod understandingly at the "boundaries". If you don't, you can let Micah spend a day at your house, and then you will have no further questions!

ANYWAY, I was leading to this little anecdote. Today, I put up the temporary gate in the hallway so that I could work on the computer and leave the door open and see him while I worked. Micah was very content and occupied with his stack of yellow legos (he only likes the yellow ones this week) and his favorite Wiggles movie. But his innate "I'm losing some space" instinct caused him to look over and see me silently putting the gate up. Let me say, I was working in absolute silence so as not to disturb the serenity of the living room but somehow he felt this happening. So immediately, he runs to the gate and the "mamamamamamama (sniff)" starts. (Another thing about Micah - he always has this little sniff after he says mama. It's quite charming.) I wave and smile from the computer desk and my greeting is not well received. In fact, it all hits the fan. He began crying so pitifully and with so much effort (fake crying requires so much more effort than real crying) that I couldn't help but snicker. His lip could have gotten stung by a bee, it stuck out so far. When he heard me laugh, he turned away and increased his pitch, moving into an injured cry. I went to the gate to attempt to comfort, without giving in to his shameless attempt at guilt. He grabbed my hand and started rubbing his face with it, as if saying "how can you leave this huge, fuzzy head out here alone?" This went back and forth for several minutes, in various forms, but I had decided that I wouldn't take the gate down while he was still throwing a fit because then he'd get his way with a fit. FINALLY, he calmed down and I casually stepped over the gate, back into his world, and sat down on the couch to play with him.

And don't you know, he strolled back over to his yellow legos, sat down with his back to me and picked up right where he'd left off, without so much as looking at me! Anyone who says that babies don't try to manipulate adults has not met my kids! Maybe we have a unique gene for that but I am convinced that they both came from the womb with that instinct fully developed!

Oh well. What can you do.