I’m no child psychology expert, but don’t let that deter you from believing anything I say.  Confining children helps them in later life.  It lets them learn about boundaries and barriers.  It teaches kids that the best way to encourage good behavior is to separate them from a negative environment.  (Isn’t that what prison does? Positive space = jail.  Negative space = world.)

Building barriers quells the human desire to see what is on the “other” side.  For example, let’s suppose we have a barrier (in this case, a liquor cabinet) protecting the parents’ best rums (such as Zacapa, Anniversario, Orinoco, Gosling’s Black Seal).  We  know that keeping the liquor inside the cabinet insures that the child will lose their curiosity about the liquor cabinet and not invite their friends over when you’re not home and partake in the spirits and then refill the bottles back to the marked lines with water.  It’s all because of the barrier between child and liquor.  So, in that same frame of mind,  we’ve got a baby cage barrier for Gavin!

He’s a curious little bugger and I am lazy can’t keep my eyes on him all the time.  With all of his mobility and sleight of hand, he catches me off guard.  And I’ve got to race over to wherever he is to save him from chewing up power cords, eating magazine covers, and throwing remote controls.  Plus, there are things in the living room that can seriously hurt him…like unpausing my PS3 game controller and pushing the buttons.  (Ok, that’s me hurting him.  But, the end result is the same. Pain!)

To keep prying fingers out of electrical sockets, mouse traps and open bleach containers, we hope the baby jail will prove to be a formidable obstacle.

Check it out!

Caged Animal Behavior - Pacing

Caged Animal Behavior - Feeling Threatened

Caged Animal Behavior - Attack Mode

But, it wasn’t as satisfying as I thought it would be.  In fact, I was crushed too.

Worm has a way of telling us what he wants.  He points (somewhat close to the object he wants) and says “Ah!”  If it’s food, Worm’s mouth cranks wide open to help us translate the babble.  And if we don’t tickle his fancy, the “Ah!” sound gets louder and more shrill.  I’m not saying that we always give him what he wants, but if given a choice between a whining baby and a smiling baby, we seldom choose the former.

So, last night the Worm was eating some cheezy poofs (organic broccoli and cheese, of course) in his high chair.  The poofs were spread around his eating table in orderly baby fashion.  Since I love playing around with Worm, I decided to give him the “sign” that I wanted a cheezy poof.  I pointed at the poof and went “Ah!” and I opened my mouth so he could feed me.  Thinking that he would understand my baby lingo, I waited for my boca grande to enter supreme cheezy poofiness.  Nothing.

I'm Never Wearing This Shirt Again! Where's My "Just Like Mommy" Shirt?

Then I see Worm look at me as he’s never looked at me before, frightened.  He leaned away from me in his chair, turned his head, and was frozen still.  He didn’t move for about 15 seconds and I watched his little brown eyes turn red and well up with tears.  His little mouth turned down and was trembling.  Then he started sobbing.  Not like the “I want that Tickle Me Elmo Doll now!” sobbing.  It was the classic “My best friend in the whole world is moving away to Alaska and he’ll never survive there as a vegetarian!” kind of sobbing.

I spent the rest of the evening trying to make up with him, chasing him around the room, tickling him and looking for some interaction.  But, I got nothing.  I couldn’t explain to him that maybe my “Ah!” didn’t come out right.  I should have said “Ah!” instead of “Ah!”  Even if he could understand, he wouldn’t hear it.

He didn’t make eye contact with me again that evening.

I’ve got to do the adult thing to get back on his good side.  I’ll have to buy him a bike.