My friend Kim, who, I continue to remind you, dear readers, is entirely responsible for the existence of this blog, is bringing her baby over tonight to play with the cats. Since I am a responsible and loving friend, and since I do not want to be sued, I am trying to babyproof my living room.
It's harder than it looks.
First of all, I don't own any of those little plastic thingies that you put into outlets to protect children from electrocuting themselves, so I've been trying to think of an alternative. I went around pasting large squares of construction paper over the outlets this morning. And what is with this cheap masking tape that shreds with a fingernail? How can it shred so easily, but then stick all over my fingers so that I have to yell and jump up and down and curse repeatedly to get it off? I don't remember masking tape behaving that way when I was a kid.
Anyway, I was very proud of myself for getting all of the bright construction paper plastered crookedly over the outlets, and just as I sat down to sip a tall glass of iced tea, the cats, specifically Spike, proceeded to walk around the living room and tear every single piece of construction paper off of the wall.
WTF, Spike?! That took me an hour! And now I have to spend another hour getting masking tape off of his paws while he cries pitifully.
Obviously, this babyproofing thing is not for amateurs.