Having put Bella down for her morning nap, I was just starting to watch Miss Potter, and had just got through the almost half-hour of previews and was about ten minutes into the film, when a loud jackhammer started just outside the living room window. I hurried to the window and banged my forehead against the bottom of the raised pane. Looks like the gas company is doing some work in the road. In addition to the jackhammer, I spy a couple of trucks and a large backhoe.
A few minutes later, the doorbell rings. The guy from the gas company wants to check the basement for leaks. Fortunately all was clear. Unfortunately, he said he thinks it may take most of the day to complete the work. Guess I’ll have to postpone the movie.
I’m glad Bella’s room is on the side of the house away from the street.
Well, I’ll try to warn her when the heat comes on; but I’m guessing that words will not suffice and that Bella will learn pretty quickly what “hot” means through the only effective teacher in this situation: experience.
I want to protect my little darling from every bump and bruise, from every scrape and burn. It hurts me to see her get hurt. But I know from experience that sometimes the only way she’ll learn is through her experience. She didn’t stop standing up under the dining room table until I let her bump her head a couple of times. (And held her closely when she cried, poor dear, it broke my heart.) Dom tried to protect her by putting his hand between her head and the table; but as long as he was doing that, she didn’t learn not to do it.
I suppose I should have found some creative way to keep her from standing on the pipes; but I couldn’t think of one. Maybe the radiators here will be like the ones in our last apartment. Those never got too hot to touch with a hand, even for a baby. (Ironically, it was that apartment that had elaborate wooden covers over the radiators.)
That is a precious picture.
Oh dear heart, she is so precious—but what are you going to do when the heat comes on??