But seriously, folks...

Big sigh! I am feeling every bit of my 47 years today. My joints ache, everything is sagging, and if it weren't for coffee, I'd have no incentive to get up in the morning. Suzanne did something yesterday that I still can hardly believe and yet... I take yesterday's event as conclusive proof that God does exist and that He sends angels to keep track of children with an extraordinary ability to get into hair-raising situations.

I think we've established the fact that Suzanne is a climber. If not, let me say emphatically that Suzanne can climb anything she sets her mind to. We shut a lot of doors around here just to keep her out of and off of things. Suzanne has also embraced the door shutting. She hasn't mastered opening yet, but it is just a matter of time and about 1 more inch in height.

My lovely niece, Hilary, stays with us a couple nights a week and yesterday morning she was hustling around getting ready for work. While she understands Suzanne's capabilities, in the rush of getting to work on time she usually manages to forget something and this week it was the closing of the upstairs doors. The guest bathroom is not a place that Suzanne gets to go that often, especially now that she has forsaken her potty chair (momentarily I hope). That was the door that my darling Hil left open. After she left, Suzanne took it upon herself to go upstairs and check, and sure enough--the forbidden bathroom was wide open. Her bedroom door was also open, so she obligingly closed it and then marched down the hall to the bathroom.

I was in the bedroom folding the never-ending mass of laundry and heard doors closing, which didn't alarm me. In fact, I looked out in the hall, saw Suzanne's door was closed and assumed she was on the inside playing--this happens all the time. It wasn't until I heard the water and the yelling that I realized she was in the bathroom.

Let me cast the vision for you...the guest bathroom has no window. Suzanne shuts the door and is enveloped in total darkness, except for the crack at the bottom of the door. Then, she climbs up on the toilet (Kirk is a fanatic about keeping the lid down). Then, in darkness, she climbs up on the counter and then into the sink where she gets stuck in the basin like an upside down turtle. Then she turns on the water, gets all wet, and turns it off again. This is when I find her babbling merrily away.

She could have fallen off the counter, she could have turned on the hot water, it could have turned out very badly. As I said earlier, there are angels who watch over children, and Suzanne's angel gets quite a workout.

I realize that most folks (including my family) who spend actual time with me think I'm somewhat of a shrill alarmist when it comes to Suzanne. Well, I'm not an alarmist and if people would take me seriously, I wouldn't have to be so shrill. This is what happens when you spend your entire life making people laugh--no one takes you seriously.

I'm not asking for much. Just shut a few doors, keep your purses out of reach, and be aware that it only takes a second for Suzanne to think up something new. You don't have to take me seriously (I'm only the mother, right?) but DO NOT underestimate Suzanne.