I have this conversation with my 1 1/2 year-old son on pretty much an hourly basis:

Kid: Hey Dad, check out this new thing that I found to chew on!

(mind you, he doesn’t really talk yet, but the slobber and tooth marks pretty much say it all)

Dad: No no no! Those are batteries – you can’t play with those…

Kid: WAHHHHHHH!!! HOW COULD YOU?!?!?!?! MY LIFE IS RUINED!!!!!!!

And here I thought I was doing pretty good installing those stupid safety latches on all of the cabinets and drawers that I literally forget about every single time I go to grab a spoon now, but apparently despite my mild attempts to make our home slightly less deadly for my ever-exploring toddler, it seems that I’ve still got a ways to go because he’s pretty much constantly finding new things to chew on that most definitely aren’t intended for human consumption!

I mean, sure – the latches will prevent him from playing with the Drain-O and the electric mixer, but I’ve got a funny feeling that kids aren’t supposed to play with dog food and dirty flip-flops and laptop power supplies, either, and at the end of the day they just don’t make special safety gizmos for every random thing in this house that a child under the age of 25 isn’t supposed to get his curiously grubby, little mitts on…

In a way, I can’t really blame the kid when there are literally more toys than not toys scattered throughout the rooms and hallways of this house for his recreational enjoyment – seriously, you can’t walk three feet around here without stepping on a stuffed whale shark or accidentally triggering a singing taxi cab right after you’ve finally gotten him down for his nap!

Of course, it’s really the tantrums that truly seal the deal because as excruciating as the scream of a toddler who’s just been deprived of something that could potentially kill him can be, they also offer us a hilarious opportunity to take a step back and remind us just how absolutely ridiculous humans of all ages and sizes can be. Kind of like when you’re out to lunch with somebody and the waitress apologizes for being all out of pickles and your friend proceeds to go on a tirade because “What kind of self-respecting sandwich hole would allow themselves to be out of pickles?!” and everybody’s staring at you and if your memory serves you, your friend doesn’t even like pickles, anyways…

I think those are the same types of people who absolutely lost their minds when their parents cruelly took Dad’s golf shoes away from them before they had a chance to perforate their baby brother’s spleen or something.

So I suppose we’ll just have to wait and see what happens – maybe if I litter this place with enough Fisher-Price and Playskool paraphernalia, he won’t catch on when I discretely have to inch away the saber saw that he’s been unintentionally wielding around the living room for the last twenty minutes…

I have got to start keeping that thing out in the garage like my wife said.