It wasn't a silly error in the shopping department as the stairgates were kindly donated to us by one of George's little friends who no longer needed them. So, we've been making do without the stairgates for now, keeping the door to the hall firmly closed whenever George is about.
But the time is now getting close – very close - for a trip to the stairgate shop for an extra-wide gate. Yesterday, George walked about four or five steps – they were tiny, tottery steps and he sort of moved forward only slightly further than he did backwards or sideways. They were the kind of steps Bruce Forsyth would have been proud of (daddy's not a fan, by the way).
The realisation that it definitely is time for stairgate shopping came the other night, though. I'd picked up George from nanna's house and we were enjoying a bit of playtime together before tea. Then the phone rang. George was happily engrossed in flinging books across the lounge, so I picked it up expecting it to be mummy saying she'd "just got on the train and I'll be home in time for George's bath". However, it was a late business call that required a notepad and pen and a lot of listening and writing.
Even George can tell a business call and he certainly knows how to take advantage of the distraction. He managed to bypass his daddy and make his way to the bottom of the stairs – it's surprising how quiet he can be when he's up to something. It was when he was on the third or fourth step that I noticed him from the corner of my eye. I made a mad dash to catch up with him to make sure he didn't fall – phone under chin, pen and paper in hand and still taking notes.
Without stairgates this could be the way I may have to conduct many business calls in the future. I very slowly continued to climb the stairs behind George with my phone, pad and pen. When he got to the top I blocked the way back down again and apologised to my client for the strange noises in the background. George went off into the bedroom and returned to the top of the stairs with a big grin and his cuddly Mickey Mouse which soon found itself wedged between daddy's mouth and the phone.
This was the moment when mummy walked in through the front door, looking up to the top of the stairs and wondering what on earth is going on... I don't know... where do you start?
You'll get used to making apologies for the noise in the background whilst making telephone calls - or at least I've had to!
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