The curious case of the disappearing child.

I think any parent of five children will admit that they are a little more relaxed in their approach to child rearing.  The days of helicoptering over toddlers are gone and make shift pens and historical observations of your child's behavior give you a sense of security that you have a grip on what a 14 month might get up to.  Kitchen cupboards, ya no biggie.  Pushing the buttons on the washing machine mid cycle (grrr) ya, seen it.  Finding the drawers where the markers are hid, that's what those Mr. Clean scrubby things are for.

Such was the case this morning.  Theo and I followed our regular routine where I perform light cleaning/tidying/playing until his mid morning nap time and then I delve into those jobs that I can't do with my, ahem, "helper".  So just after 10:30 I sat Theo in the highchair with a few little snacky tid bits and just like clockwork, he was asleep in 6 minutes. (For those of you who don't know, Theo ONLY naps in his highchair.  Theo can cry at demanding and hysterical operatic levels for two hours if he is in his crib during daytime hours and I would be having vodka in my coffee if that went on everyday, so this is the much safer alternative.)

Anyway, as soon as the familiar head bobbing starts I reline the chair and beat it the heck out of the kitchen.  Today, ironing was on the docket and I opened up the board fast, so the weird squeak it makes would be short and painless, as opposed to the long, freaky dragged-out squeak it would make if I was trying to be quiet.  I am one of those rare people who actually likes ironing, if I am alone and can kinda bum wiggle to the music from the radio I have in the laundry room.  Yes, a radio, and considering the amount of time I spend in that room, I should have a plasma TV, bar fridge and a coffee maker.  Anyway, I got all my tea towels nice and crisp, got through a small pile of shirts and finished off with the flimsy tank tops that Olivia had left in a heap after taking them out of the dryer.  She says she doesn't care, but I try to explain to her that when young people are out in the world looking frumpy, observers wonder what's wrong with the kid's MOTHER!

When I completed my job I took the cold remnants of my coffee and went to my Pinterest boards. (Yes, it's like I'm at a real job, where a portion of your day is spent screwing around unproductively.)  After a while I hear whimpering and crying.  Usual, "I'm bored mom, where are you?" kinda crying.  I walked out of the office and my sixth sense detected that the crying wasn't coming from the highchair quadrant of the house.  It's amazing how a routine is so chemically imprinted on your brain.  That crying was geographically off and I knew it from 40 feet away.  That sent some sort of subconscious alert that possibly only mothers get.  I got goose bumps and I began to have a physical emergency response reaction.  When I got to the kitchen the highchair was empty!  Theo was no where around it.  I had to search for him.  His crying was still a low-level "I'm still bored here!" and I found him under the breakfast bar hanging onto the side of a stool.

I have no idea how he got out of that chair without a sound, no whimpering or crying, no grunting sounds.  It had been stealth.  It had been Mission Impossible.

So, where a first time parent would be having the vapours over such a close call, I am finding the situation one of interesting intrigue.  How did he do it?  I'll never know if he went over the edge, or slithered down through the leg hole.  One thing is sure, I have tightened the belt to the point where it borderline is gonna feel uncomfortable if he has a big meal.  I was a little more lax on the restraining tightness of the belt 'cause I figure you can't enjoy a good meal  with such an important part of your anatomy under physical duress.

But Theo has upped the ante for me.  He's going to get me back on my toes again.