Batten Down The Hatches

It turns out that there will be a (hopefully) brief interval in between our last day at the old house and our move-in day at our new apartment. Luckily, my parents have offered to let our nomadic selves camp out at their house until our new dwelling is Tillman-ready. I suspect that I will wake up in the middle of the night at least once while we are there and find Max missing, but at least my parents' bedroom will be right down the hall, so much more convenient than all the times they tried to smuggle him to their house when they lived in Napa. Knowing that he will be imposing upon his grandparents' hospitality for a few days, Max has already begun preparations. During our last visit, Max very kindly put on a demonstration of some of the many varieties of trouble he could create there.

Granny has been an early-childhood professional for a long time, as well as raising me, so she is no doubt prepared for some of Max's antics. The television cabinet has baby-finger barriers, which have (temporarily, at least) thwarted some TV raid attempts.

The kitchen is more vulnerable to attack. So far, Granny or Gramps has been able to protect the sanctity of the cupboards, but Max is always watching for the moment when vigilance is relaxed, and with several days in which to lay siege, victory is really only a matter of time.

Ah! Security breeches have sprung up already, and we haven't even moved in yet! Oh, sweet unexplored terrain!