Despite all his rage
Recently Chandler has become a real handful. By recently I mean the last 9 months. Oh, did I mention he turned 9 months old this week? So I’ve struggling to find ways to contain my Tazmanian Devil child, you know, for his own safety. I finally think I’ve found the solution.
I call it the fun box. No wait. I call it the happy happy good times crate. Wait. How about the cube of wonders? Do any of these names make this look less inhumane?
Hey, stop judging me. I wasn’t the first parent to start treating my child like a pet. People have been putting leashes on their kids for years. And didn’t your dad hit you on the nose with a rolled up newspaper whenever you peed in the neighbor’s yard? Was that really just me?
The only way this cage could be better for Chandler is if we could cut out the bottom and attach it to a treadmill so that he can crawl in place in there. I guess he can’t really stand up in it right now. But if he really needs to stand up we can just turn the cage on it’s side for a while.
Look, it’s not like I plan on keeping him in the cage all the time! Just during the day time. At night he’ll be sleeping peacefully in his crib/dresser drawer. Now if you’ll excuse me, I have to take Chandler for a walk so he can poop in the neighbor’s yard.
