Places I have found Oliver in the last few days

It's definitely nice to have a bigger home, with lots more room for babies and dogs to play, but it also means it's easier to lose them, especially the former, in the midst of working around the house.

Example 1: A few days ago I was cleaning up in the kitchen after dinner and heard a crinkly noise, like a plastic bag. I assumed, correctly, that Oliver had gotten his way into something he wasn't meant to get into -- and boy was I right. I hunted for him in the eat-in area, the "parlor" (a.k.a. the dining room that we're not going to use as a dining room), the living room. And then found him -- on the third stair of the main staircase playing with a bag of letters/numbers for the tub. Yes, my young one has learned the joy of climbing up the stairs. His main enticement is the dog bowls, which reside on the landing where -- before this moment -- Oliver could not reach but Lucy could. So now there are baby gates stationed at the top AND bottom of the stairs. If either Wes or I forget to put the one at the bottom up upon bringing Oliver downstairs, we usually find him on, oh, about the third stair. We're learning to be more mindful.

Example 2: The very next day after the stairwell incident I was once again cleaning up in the kitchen and heard the sound of splashing water. Where had my young one gotten to? The toilet just off the kitchen. He's become very adept at pulling up now, and evidently the toilet is just the right height. (Sadly, he also practiced this trick when I used the toilet one day and left the door open. It's not easy trying to get a kid off of you so you can stand up from using the toilet -- hence the small bruise on his forehead.)

Example 3: And then Saturday. Wes and I were standing in one room or another (probably the kitchen, as it seems to be where I lose Oliver) talking and realized we couldn't see the baby. Or hear him. So we started looking. Not in the bathroom. Not on the stairwell (the baby gate was up!). Nowhere to be seen. And then we heard a slight whimpering. And then saw little tiny fingers come out from beneath the door to the master bedroom. It seems the young squire had crawled into the bedroom and then had the door close on him so that he could not make his way back out. This scene in particular cracked me up since my sister and I used to put our hands under our parents' door and yell, "Mini-fingers." Hence my response to photograph the incident before rescuing Oliver from the room.