As I mentioned, we built this massive baby play area in half of our dining room - cleared it of furniture, put down a giant blanket, festooned it with pillows (particularly one pillow which is designed to make it comfy for adults to sit on the floor, clever pillow), and littered it with toys. Margaret seems to like it. She's got a 10 foot run or so for her rolling, before she hits the table, and Leo and I both spend a good bit of time on the floor with her. With the pillows, we can actually make the floor a nice place to hang out, so we sit there with our computers or kindles or books or whatever and make sure she doesn't kill herself.
Yesterday I wrote several blog posts while hanging out on the floor, and foolishly left the detritus of that operation on the edge of the baby's blanket kingdom.
She found it this morning.
And, of course, felt that it needed closer investigation, which involved twining the cord around her little person.
And then pulling the cord tight so that it drew her arms together.
She then rolled onto her back, the better to gum the thing to death.
And tried to wrap the cord around her neck, which was where I intervened and brought her little game to an end.
According to Margaret - and she, I suppose, would be the only person qualified to have an opinion on the subject - my cruelty, as a mother, knows no equal, and I routinely take THE ONLY TOY SHE WANTS AT ALL away from her to satisfy my inscrutable whims. Some days, life in our house is VERY HARD. As we are, however, moments away from embarking on midmorning snack and nap, her opinion of me may change. Possibly. Or she may just tolerate me long enough to get what she wants.
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