The Forbidden Fruit

Now that Jack has gone mobile, we've mostly babyproofed our family room so he can have a relatively safe place to play.  Computer cables have been tucked away, game controllers have been stowed on top of the television, DVDs have been moved to higher ground, and Jack's massive amount of toys create a nice shield for the television's speakers. We do have one area that we keep off limits - a little round table between the sofa and the recliner where we set our coffee cups, television remote, and tissue box.

Of course, that little round table is THE GREATEST THING in the house, and Jack absolutely must see what is on it.  He pulls himself up on the base of the table, puts his little fingertips on the table's edge, and then hoists himself up onto his feet so he can peer onto the table.  And then he tries to grab whatever he can - keys, coffee cups, and even the holy grail of all forbidden items: the television remote.  And yes, he knows how to change the channel. 

I don't get it.  On one side of the room, he has toys galore - brightly colored plastic noisy chewable baby toys - everything a baby could want - yet he wants to play with this table.  And it isn't even an interesting table - I'd have a hard time imagining a more boring table.  

I've tried to make the table's contents as dull as possible so as to dissuade him from this venture.  All of our little this-and-thats have been removed.  Coffee mugs are kept at the back of the table, far out of his reach.  The remote gets nestled behind the table lamp, well out of sight.  Yet he persists.  He is one determined kid.

I'm starting to learn something here.  Kids don't need toys.  They need car keys, measuring cups, a pressure cooker, a television remote, and something they are told not to play with, and they'll be entertained for hours.