I zoned out in front of the television for two minutes–two minutes!!–the other night and when I came back to full consciousness, I found that during the brief reprieve from supervision, my eldest had taught her baby sister how to turn doorknobs.
Oh what a blissfully pleasant life I’ve been living, with that baby not able to turn doorknobs. I could pee in peace–if I remembered to shut the door. I could toss things into the closet and rest secure in the knowledge that she could not molest them. I could throw things in the trash (kept in another closet) and know that she’d not soon be wandering around with browned apple cores stuck in her ears.
Just when I think I’ve fully baby-proofed this place to the point that everything is safe, they grow! They get smarter! More devious!
They are learning now to climb. God help me.
On the plus side, perhaps I could rent these children out as faux-Victorian-era chimney-sweeps/pickpockets. Considering the speed and ease that Elder Sister taught Baby Sister to turn doorknobs and the facile fingers that Baby Sister seems to be blessed with, I feel certain that they could quickly be trained into the life of crime.
I could be house-mother and task-master over a small contingent of Pickpocket Minions. This could be profitable!
______
Update: I’ve now purchased industrial-strength doorknob covers that guarantee themselves to be child-proof. They are child-proof!
______
Update to the Update: I’ve threatened the eldest child with banishment to the garage if she teaches her sister how to thwart the doorknob covers. She looked scared.
