If her name is Adrian, we're outta here!

Last weekend, my husband and I made the biggest sacrifice that a parent can make for a child besides pushing their chunky butts into this world…we went to Chuck E. Cheese. When we walked in, I expected to see a modern day version of Dante’s fifth circle of Hell, with demon children fighting each other for tokens and future Zolofters sobbing over 5 cent “rewards” that require 100 tickets more than they have. However, I was shocked and somewhat disappointed to find the place half empty and to see that the kids who were there were relatively mellow. I mean, they weren’t meditating or anything, but the fact that it wasn’t a scene from the Lord of the Flies is truly saying something. Sure there were a few kids crying about empty token cups or smaller siblings stealing their turns at Whac-A-Mole, but I expected to walk away with hilarious stories of screaming children ripping off the ticket dispensers and toddlers clinging wildly to their father’s heads like rabid spider monkeys, screaming for just one dollar more. The only highlight was one exceptionally creepy little girl with big, coke-bottle glasses who was sitting in a little red car that takes your picture with a plastic Chuck E. She sat there, motionless, for five minutes straight, hugging this lifeless rat with a smile that raised my arm hairs and seemed to suggest that Rosemary had another baby. However, we were there for over an hour and not a single child tried to climb on one of those terrifying robots that sing the same songs on a ten-minute rotation. Weak!

So, what else is new? Well, my son has started to act as all boys do…inexplicably crazy. About four days ago, he started letting out ear-piercing shrieks for no reason. Now, he’s started fake coughing and growling in addition to being a terror in a walker. For three months, I have placed him in what I refer to as the “circular walker,” which is a walker that’s attached to a small activity table so that the walker can only go around the table. Well, this walker has been my go-to for times when I needed him to stay in one place and be entertained. This all ended two days ago. As I was preparing my lecture for class, I heard a rustling sound, only to look over and find my 6 month old dragging the activity table across our living room toward the kitchen, growling all the way. My husband has since informed me that boys are just like that. As he put it, “One day, Kate, he’ll just run as fast as he can at the front door and smash into it. Or he’ll pick up a stick and jab it into the electrical box. Boys don’t think; we just do.” In related news, we spent over $500 on baby-proofing supplies this week, although I’m starting to think that it’s more about proofing the house from the baby and not the other way around.