Growing very mischievous

I was told when I was pregnant to "watch out" because when Molli was inside me, she was constantly moving and as "on the go" as one can be in the womb. Apparently this person believed that prenatal temperament directly corresponds to baby's personality.  And how true this is!  This baby does not know how to sit still, unless she accidentally falls asleep (which is happening NOW!).

Most outrageous case of accidental sleep

Since she's been crawling I've set up a barricade to contain her to the living room.  Unfortunately, Molli has a severe case of the grass is greener syndrome and insists on being on the other side. So, in true Molli style, she learns to climb.  And climb she does.  Only problem is she can climb, but the decent is far less than graceful.  Typically she climbs to the top of the barricade (a strategic pile of baskets, blankets and pillows) and crashes onto her face on the other side.  It's not pretty, but it's effective.  Bless her heart, she received her first forehead egg and bruise from this strategy.  

Exhibit A: Baby confined to the living room

In effort to increase the level of safety and decrease the bruises and forehead eggs, we have replaced the barricade with a semi-legitimate gate.  With gates set up separating every room without a door, I do believe this is the closest I've been to living in a gated community. 

Exhibit B: Dogs confined to the kitchen 

As most babies are, she is prone to putting anything and everything in her mouth.  Under close supervision this is alright, but turn your back for one second and she may or may not have retrieved a dog bone from the other side of the gate to the kitchen and held it conspicuously as though she had just... no, I wont say it. There is no way my daughter put a dog bone in her mouth.  gross. 

Speaking of gross, we acquired a horribly uncomfortable papasan chair when we bought our house.  We kept it around and deemed it the "dog chair" back in the day when they were allowed in the living room.  Since we've lived here the chair has hogged more than it's fair share of space in our small living room, completely blocking the front door. (The goings in and out happen through the back anyway.)  This big chair is never sat upon, and rarely cleaned under (some things are better left ignored).  That is, until the other day.  I left the room briefly and came back to a missing child.  I quickly scanned the house on both sides of the untrustworthy barricade to no avail.  A search with greater detail was in order.  I called her name and heard a grunt over by the front door.  Eew, no, please don't be behind that nasty chair.   Sure enough, I peeked under, and a silly little grin and curious eyes were peeking back at me.  It was as though she was just waiting for me to find her!

(I can't believe I'm showing the most hideously filthy part of my house on the internet.  Don't judge me!)