Under lock and key

Rose's favorite room in the house, since she could crawl, has been the pantry. Well...duh! I have found her in the pantry, just standing there, staring at the yummy goodness that awaits her--right there, at the tip of her fingers. In fact, there have been nights that we have looked in every nook and cranny of this house for "pink" and pillow, only to find them on the floor of the pantry, where she let them go for something tastier and even more comforting.


Well, it's getting old. Finding her in there, already wanting a "snack" at 9:00 in the morning. Awaking to a box of Cheerios being shoved in my face at 6:30 (or worse, waking up to Cheerios in the sheets with me--ugh). Finding bags of fruit snacks all over the house. Stepping on a pile of salt, or some other item from the spice rack, as I run in to grab a quick snack. Seriously.


"Get a lock for your pantry--good-ness," you may be thinking. Yeah, I've been thinking that for about 18 months now. Laziness trumps action around here. At least, until the other day. I stumbled into the kitchen, eyes groggy, feet heavy, ready to make coffee. "Why is the pantry door open--it's 6:40?" I thought.


ROSE. Sitting in the pantry. Already eaten (note--swallowed, not chewed) 3 pieces of gum, a poptart, and had poured the container of dill weed all over her pillow. Sometimes, enough is enough.

We should have known--here's Rose in March 2007. This picture was taken 2 days after her 9-month checkup, when the doctor said to avoid giving her chocolate until her 1st birthday. Lovely.