Grandma has been providing free child care for a couple of weeks, while Shannon goes to work and I go to get yelled at by South Bronx 12 year olds. Today, Isaac got to play on his mat for a minute while grandma washed some bottles and some grandma. Apparently, this location was not ideal, and he somehow scooted/rolled himself a full 3 feet off the mat, managing to get wedged under the coffee table before finally calling out for help. Isaac is now capable of moving.
This is like a whole new frontier in being a parent. Before, he was loud, he was screamy, he was barfy and poopy, but he was stationary. If you needed to go to the bathroom, or to the kitchen to fix a bottle, we could trust him in the middle of the bed, or on the couch, or on the oversized ottoman. We can't do that now. And this is just plain terrifying.
The closest we've come to baby-proofing the apartment to this point was to put the lube in a drawer, and now everything has to be thought about. Shoes in the entryway? Nooooooo. Don't put your pants on the floor, dad. And careful with the TV, Dave. Babies love to play with those.
Stupid growing-too-fast baby.