Apr 04 2007
Scooby dooby doo, where are you?
He learned
1. To get out of his crib by himself
and
2. To open closed doors.
Please keep in mind that we are living in my in-laws’ basement while we wait for our old house to sell and our new house to be finished.
Yesterday morning, I awakened to the sweet sounds of little Scooby POUNDING on my Mother-in-law’s piano upstairs. Yikes….
Then, when I put Scooby down for a nap, I put Bubba in the bath tub and went to go get some stuff out of the kitchen. Upon my return, this is what I found:
(Yes, that is Scooby fully dressed, having jumped in to join his brother.)
And then this morning topped it all off. I was awakened by Lil’ Dude crying this morning, so I went into his and Scooby’s room to check on him and discovered that Scooby wasn’t there. I started looking around for him all over the basement. Couldn’t find him. Went upstairs. Couldn’t find him. Starting to panic now, realizing that there are so many things in this not-exactly-childproof house that he can hurt or be hurt by, I started yelling his name.
I finally found him asleep on the doormat by the door that leads to the garage.
He was completely naked, except for a diaper, soaking wet–drenched and sticky from something (unknown at this point)–and trembling from the cold.
He had obviously been thirsty, because he had gathered every bottle of everything, from soda to household cleaners, and the one bottle he had managed to open–Cherry 7 Up (which was incredibly lucky, considering the options) had been spilled all over him and the floor. As I approached him, he awoke with a start and began screaming and screaming. I knew that my mother-and father-in-law were still sleeping, so I tried to keep him as quiet as I could while I cleaned and comforted him. Poor baby. He was really startled and had obviously been through a great ordeal.
So, my father-in-law put a lock on Scooby’s door, so I can lock him in his bedroom. It seems cruel. At the same time, though, it’s for his own safety. Poor kid. This is a very hard age!
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