I bought a baby gate for Dad's pups today. A friend's daughter had one and so I took it. The pups had been going into the basement and "minding their business" without Dad's knowledge, so the basement is now blocked by boxes which is ever so tacky. So, I figure this will look much better and serve the same purpose.
However, it got me to thinking that my father never bothered with baby gates when we were children. In fact, I think he encouraged us to play on the stairs. I'm not even sure if baby gates just weren't invented then!
One of my first memories is loading up my brother, Grae, into a plastic tub my Mom used to make bread and shoving him down the basement stairs that led to a concrete floor. I would have been about 3 years old at the time. Making Grae about 18 months. I was a good sister, I was. I'm pretty sure he bounced head first off the floor and shouted "Again!"
Moral of the story? Baby gates are for suckers. Oh, and, my Dad loves his puppies more than us. But I think that was already determined.
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Crap monkies say "what?"