Baby Caltrops

Cheerios litter our floor, tiny landmines waiting to burst under the unsuspecting adult foot.  I'm currently hiding on the couch waiting for our daughter to grow bored swinging her spill-proof containers whose contents only come out when you want.

Yet another instance of baby product designers who have clearly never met a toddler.

Don't get me wrong, the squishy one loves her snack catcher.  But she also figured out how to manipulate it for optimal snack access.  By the third use.

And no matter how many times I pick up after her, the little terror leaves a trail of baby caltrops in her wake.  We are equally excited and leery of the day we introduce her to the joy of Legos.



And when she's not peppering the floor with mines, she's riffling through any unguarded purse and diaper bag.

Give her one minute and she will find the hand sanitizer.  One minute and one second and she will have it in her mouth.  Your horrified gasp will never, ever, ever (with a very Swift-ian emphasis) dampen her desire to chew on the Tide-to-go stick.

On the bright side, she is also learning how to share.

Sorta.