Well, you know, fell, jumped, whatever, but whatever she did, first she was in the high chair and the next second she was face down on the cold, tile floor doing her best Britney Spears baby impression.
So we got rid of the old high chair and set her up in her kitchen home: the high chair in a chair! So cool, so chic, so I-am-toddler-I-am-big!
Amazingly, child protective services did not show up at our door after either of these instances and she suffered no trauma whatsoever, except the indignity or being removed even farther from the goodies she sought.
Yeah, we quit boiling the pacifiers after every spill and we let her eat cheerios off the floor if the dog isn't in the house, but no one can say we encouraged her to perform feats of daring from the kitchen table. She was strapped as tight as we could manage and seated between two adults when she did it the third time.
Yes, the third time.
So, yeah, a kid CAN fall out of a high chair while she's strapped in.
I'm guessing this officially makes me a white trash parent now, huh?
I know! First the bumbo, now this!
So in an effort to curtail her acrobatic accomplishments during dinner, instead of duct tape (which was tempting), at the advice of yet another escape artist's parent, my husband broke out the bungee cords.
Stifle the Jedi resolve, you will not, oh, padawan learner.
C'mon, man. I ain't down with this. Free me from the chains that bind me! Give me five.
Oh, I am feeling woozy, oh so woozy. It. must. be. the. strap. cutting. off. all. oxygen.
You'd think that bright orange strap would be the end of it, but no, you'd be wrong. She apparently was lured by the open dishwasher and leapt right out of that tight bungee cord. Right in front of our eyes.
Experienced Parents: 0
You know we feed her on the floor now, right?
(She was not hurt, ever. No fractured skull. No broken arms. She was quite pissed, but never hurt. She scared the shit out of her mother whose blood pressure will never be the same, but she's just fine. I promise)