Finny 'n Yon Pt. 2: The Video

Let me know what you think of the blog's new look. Libby messed around with it last night. I tend to be of the "new things scare me" ilk, so I wasn't going to mess with the default arrangement I had been using for the past eighteen months or so, but she wanted to play with it, so I let her.

And here's a video of Gabe doing some potentially dangerous flying.

Wait. First, while I'm on the subject of danger, he decided to do his "sliding down the pole" act (where he slides down the back of the chair to the floor) on the couch this evening as Norah was hiding behind the chair and refused to move no matter how many times shouted "Move baby! That's MY pole!" I went to start his bath (and check email) and came back a few minutes later when the bath was done. He informed me that he discovered something new. As he described it, I THINK he was sitting on the top of the couch then fell backwards onto the pile of pillows and blankets we store back there because we have no place else convenient to keep them. He desperately wanted to do it again for me, but, without seeing it, I pointed out to him the several ways it could, and probably would, end in tears. It's possible that he was actually doing something else, but I didn't want to take the chance.

I carefully explained to him the consequences of hurting himself badly: lots of pain, hospital, days or weeks stuck in bed, bad times all around. "Will fire engine come get me?" he asked excitedly. I really didn't like where this was going. I'm pretty sure he would do himself serious bodily harm if it meant he could ride in a fire truck. He is mighty obsessed with them.

"Probably not," I said. Then, to unsweeten the pot, I added, "You'd probably have to ride in a very boring car." That was as good as I could do. ANY means of transportation probably would have seemed exciting. I could have said, "You'll have to ride in a bumpy, uncomfortable, rusty old truck," and his eyes would have lit up as he said, "Truck!" in excitement.

So I shifted tack. "You would have to stay in bed, without moving, for many days! You couldn't get up at all. You couldn't play. You couldn't do ANYTHING but lie in bed! You wouldn't like that very much, would you?"

He had to agree that he wouldn't. So I think I dodged a bullet there. He reluctantly agreed that he wouldn't do anything but "slide down the pole" from the back of the couch. Can't imagine that will last very long, though.