One would think that being able to walk would allow me to easily outrun her. Sometimes, yes. Other times, it takes on the quality of a dream, where I see a blur of baby butt far ahead, moving toward the cabinets we have not yet baby proofed, and my bipedal stature seems to impede my progress to a maddening degree.
Eventually I catch up to her, but by then she has a hold of something that I swear is not even from our house. I find myself looking at whatever is in her hand saying, "What IS that?"
Our apartment is small. We keep it moderately clean (i.e. we will not be featured on Hoarders or in Better Homes and Gardens). There's just a lot of stuff in a tiny space and we, as a defense mechanism, do not even see most of it anymore. So when Baby gets a hold of a set of papers we've been meaning to file for, oh, let's say, a year, I take a wonderful stroll down memory lane: "Oh, yeah, Wells Fargo turned us down for a mortgage adjustment..." Then I put them back down where they were.
It's hard to remember that everything is interesting. Everything is up for grabs. If I leave my cell phone within reach, then I may be explaining to Sioban in Ireland that my baby has the wrong number. If I leave a bottle of shampoo on the floor to recycle, but it still has some ooze in it, then when I take Baby in to the bathroom with me because I might piss myself, I will find myself, pants around ankles, playing tug o' war with Herbal Essences.
Nothing is sacred to a baby, until it's in her hand. Then, God help you if you have to get it back. Bait and switch works pretty well some of the time, but Baby is pretty cagey. She knows a good thing--like the whisk you have her yesterday to play with instead of your keys, but now you need it--when she has it in her hand, and she'll gladly take the companion toy you now offer, but no replacement. As an aside, "Taking candy from a baby" should refer to Sisyphean tasks, like pulling a car out of the mud with only your teeth. Note to God--they don't ride on our backs anymore, so you can take it down a notch on their gripping muscles. Thanks.
Yes, I am the parent. I am "in charge." I am "running the show." Etc. Yes, I take things away, and yes, we have dangerous things out of reach. Still, I'm considering making her wear mittens while I follow her around on a segue, just to even the playing field.