When the Moon is Full

Things Baby Bear has done just in the past few days:

Found the humor in butting heads. I just hope I never have to find the humor in making an emergency visit to the dentist.

Used the dog as a pillow. Yet he won't use his own.

Pulled down a metal curtain rod and bent it. I managed to “de-bend” it and hang it back up, though it now bows a bit in the middle.

Stole Mr. Lucky’s cell phone, punched a lot of buttons, and got a recording of current skiing conditions in Lillehammer, Norway.

Pulled out his computer keyboard so he could play Frogger from the comfort of his bed. Because the cord didn’t reach, the computer itself tipped over to the floor. Fortunately, no damage done. The computer merely needed rebooting.

Figured out how to free himself from his seatbelt and harness without unhooking anything, and with an agility that would’ve made Houdini weep. I sat in the front seat while we were parked and watched him. It probably took him less than three minutes. He knew just when to bend this way and duck his head that way without getting himself into a worse tangle. Once free, he slithered into the very back of the minivan and started taking off his clothes.

Opened the oven door while his pizza was cooking. I think—in fact, I hope—the heat kept him from venturing any further and burning himself. We’ll have to start locking the oven every time we use it. The owner’s manual says very little about the lock, except for its use in self-clean mode, but devotes a whole paragraph to how different types of margarine can affect the outcome of whatever you’re baking.

Most alarming of all, he went into the bathroom and turned on the water in the sink. He left the door open and I could see him from the kitchen, where I was loading the dishwasher. He pressed his hand beneath the faucet to make the water spray everywhere. Moments later, I heard a suspicious whirring noise from the bathroom, and came running, wondering if something was awry with the pipes. Instead, the noise was coming from an electrical outlet next to the sink—and a ribbon of smoke was curling out of it. I removed the boy and yelled for his father. By the time Mr. Lucky stepped in, the weird whirring and smoke had subsided, but he said the outlet was kaput from the water. The bells still hang from the bathroom door, but now we’re going to take a few, albeit less dangerous chances, and keep it locked.

I worry all the time. But sometimes I’m just flat out scared.

Number of times I got up while making this post: 5

I don’t think his guardian angel ever gets to sit down.