Five Gallon Bucket
I caved and bought a five gallon bucket from Home Depot the other day. I am not a fan of buying things that hold things when anything can serve that function: salad bowls, large Tupperware, stock pot. Kris has been cleaning the aquarium using the stock pot as a matter of fact, but even I could see it was adding to an already burdensome chore. So when he asked for a bucket I hardly gave him any crap about it. Hardly.
Have you looked at your five-gallon bucket lately? This is a warning printed on the side:
This stopped me dead in my tracks.
How I am supposed to remember how to protect anyone younger than Arlo? There’s so much new input to caring for him that everything old has been deleted from my memory. Isn’t that parenthood?
This warning reminded me of the time I walked out of the room with Arlo already in the bathtub. He was just over two years old. I forgot something, dashed to get it and upon return, DIDN’T SEE HIM OVER THE TUB’S EDGE. Convinced he had drowned, I rushed over and instead discovered this:
Cute, right? Holy Moses though, what a scare. Of course at two years old the child would be fine in a bathtub but that’s something I didn’t need tested.
How will I remember that an infant cannot be left alone in a bathtub? Or anywhere for that matter? How will I not take the same liberties with my baby that I take with my three-year-old? Having a new baby is suddenly quite terrifying.