Quicksilver strikes again

Apologies for this brief break in transmission. Order will be restored to Planet Baby shortly and my intended post will appear as planned. I just had to share this with you (now 83 - welcome new friends!) while my thoughts are still fresh. Remember my little post about 'Quicksilver' Sam? Well, today he struck again. He really outdid himself this time. I very nearly became a mother of two, not three.

Picture this. I'm in my bedroom, lying on the bed, reading the Sydney Morning Herald, my must-read of the day. Ah, luxury. Time to connect with the world outside Planet Baby. Joshie and India are playing happily outside in the garden with the next-door neighbour. Sammy is doing his usual half-cruise-around-the-furniture and half-four-legged-crawl around the house. 'Doing his laps' as I call it.

And then, I hear a car horn sound. It's short but loud. Suddenly, Joshie races inside to tell me that Sam is in danger. Alarmed, I spring to my feet and race to the what! Open front door! It was shut when I left it only moments ago. Horrified, I tear out onto the verandah and what do I see but Sam, crawling onto the footpath and into the path of a car!

My heart in my mouth, I swoop on him and press his little body close to me. I plant a kiss on his soft cheek. Tears in my eyes, I turn to the elderly woman and apologise profusely, explaining that he has darted outside in a matter of seconds. Fortunately, she's very kind about it - my distress is obvious. She drives off. I tell Joshua, India and the next-door neighbour that they need to be very careful not to leave the front door open.

I tell the sweet mother of the young neighbour what has just happened. Her own version of quicksilver on her hip, she immediately understands. She gets it. Empathy. She reminds her son to close our door every time he uses it. I'm not here to blame. I don't know who left the door open. It doesn't matter. What matters is that my little Quicksilver is in my arms. And safe.

Of course I don't have a photo of my little man at the exact point of danger. But if you look at this photo, imagine a little bottom wiggling in the air as he's crawling over the plank (placed there because the pixies kept falling into the gutter), onto the gravel and then the footpath. Imagine a car stopped there, right next to him.

I phone Mr PB and burst into tears. He arrives home promptly and fashions an immediate barricade from some garden furniture to prevent another escape from PB. Here it is.

Here's the view which would now confront any prospective escapee.

We've previously asked our landlord to install a fence but it was deemed too expensive. Now we have to decide whether to put a gate at the front door. I have never had such a horrible thing happen to me with the pixies. I hope it never happens again. It just goes to show, you can never be too vigilant when you have a crawling baby on the loose. Have any of you had a similar horror story? Tell me I'm not alone!