Pardon me, Jay-Z, as I steal one of your album titles for this week's installment of MTFP. The boy has figured out how to crawl, and this new skill has been just what the title says, a gift and a curse.

I'll start with the "gift" part first, as it was a very pleasant surprise for me. There is a period of time where babies begin to understand and see what's going on around them, but they still lack the motor skills to do anything or really be a part of the action. This period is called the "time where they cry for two months straight." And I don't necessarily blame them, as it would be frustrating to want to do stuff that I couldn't physically do. For all parties involved, this period sucks. (Don't worry, I'm getting to the good part.)

Then in the blink of an eye, they're up on their hands and knees. By the time you blink your eyes, they've figured out how to inch forwards (or backwards). A few days later, they're crawling (it really did seem to happen that fast, by the way). That toy on the other side of the room is no longer out of reach, so there's no reason to cry about it. What's that noise over there? They no longer have to arch, twist, and cry, they can just crawl over and check it out. It is remarkably liberating. In fact, the boy no longer cries. The difference is like night and day, I tell you. A crying turtle on his back one minute, a little happy as a clam busybody the next.

Which leads me to the "curse." This is no secret. They will get into any and everything in their reach. Specifically, they target anything that you don't want them to touch or that could bring them danger. These little creatures like to live on the edge, man. You put down a toy, they'll crawl past it to go check out the electrical outlet. You want them to come to daddy, they'd rather go check out that plastic garbage bag. You want to read a story with them, they want to play with your Ginsu knives. Wait, why are your Ginsu knives on the floor anyway? What kind of parent are you?

To date, we have covered all of the electrical outlets, and we've put up a gate at the top of the staircase in our house (the landing at the top of the stairs is now affectionately referred to as "baby jail"). All we have left to buy/install is about 15 more baby gates, some drawer/cabinet locks, window bars, a baby safety bubble wrap suit, 12" thick carpet padding, padding for all the walls, a tank (as in a military vehicle) to drive him around in, and a car seat attachment for tanks. Some might call me overprotective, but the whole tank thing is really for me. That's gonna be sweet.

My parental advice is to outsmart the kids. Get a bunch of fake dangerous-looking objects (rubber knives, fake hand grenades, etc.) to litter around your house. Your kids will be drawn to the perceived danger of these objects, and they'll steer clear of the real household dangers. Seriously, would you rather play with an electrical outlet, or a grenade? While they're busy trying to get the grenade to work, you can sit back, sip your beverage of choice, and enjoy the silence.