Elianne is so active and into everything that I decided this weekend had to be all about baby-proofing the house. Trying to keep her away from the drawers, heat registers, the blind cords and from climbing into the dishwasher has become a full-time job, and the day she figures out how to get up the stairs is fast approaching. So I left the girls with Mehdi on Saturday afternoon and went out to pick up two new safety gates. By the time we got around to trying them out, it was nearly dinner time, so we stuck one of them hastily up at the top of our main staircase, just to see if it would fit. It's a pressure-mounted model and the tool to tighten up the screws was in the garage, so we left the gate there, half-installed, to go eat dinner. With the bedtime rush, it got left the way it was, and I had just come down the stairs to tell Mehdi we should finish installing the gates when Anissa started her nightly ritual of delaying bedtime. She came out of her room and yelled down the stairs her usual request for me to come and "peek on her and snuggle" later. I went into the living room which, by the way, has a cathedral ceiling and a very high set of stairs, and told her (how predictable) to get back in bed. I couldn't see her in the darkness, but know how much she likes to climb, so threw in a warning to be careful to not lean on the gate, because it wasn't screwed in tightly.

Seconds after my warning, a loud creaking sound came from the top of the landing, followed by the sound of something heavy and metal tumbling down the stairs and banging hard into the wall, until finally clanking to a halt at to the bottom. Once the racket stopped, I began yelling up the stairs, "Anissa, I told you -" when I heard a loud sob come from the bottom, where the gate had landed. I swear my heart stopped.

There was Anissa, in a pile with the gate at the bottom of the stairs. She was crying, I was freaking out. I was sure there was going to be a broken leg or concussion or something worse, and when I tried to get her up, her leg was stuck in all that metal. She had tumbled all the way down the stairs with the gate because she had been trapped in it! I held her and tried to calm her down - and myself - and it was only minutes later when she said, "That scared me. But it was also kind of cool!" that my heart rate slowed back to normal. She was lucky. Memories came flooding back of all the times, since she was born, that we've had close brushes with serious injury: the time she wasn't buckled into her stroller and flew face-first onto the sidewalk in Montreal; the time when I lost my balance and the stroller, with her inside, flew out the door of a bus. The girl likes to dive. And, thankfully, seems to be made of rubber.

Tomorrow, Elianne will be 9 months old. Three quarters of a year! I really can't believe it. And she's such a funny little monkey, just thinking of her while I write this makes me smile. She has one of those grins that just makes you feel all gooey inside, and her eyes sparkle with life. Last week, while waiting in line at the craft store, a boy of about 10 kept staring at her and whispering to his mom. After a few minutes, she told me, "He keeps saying how adorable your baby is. He said she has golden eyes. The girls are both so sweet." Then she asked the question I often get, "Are they both yours?" I confirmed that they are, and then (when I read the usual questioning, but not wanting to ask, expression) assured her they had the same father, too. I do think it's pretty cool that I have one brown-skinned, "golden" eyed daughter, and another with blond hair and blue eyes. They both have their own look...neither one which is anything like me, but oh well!

About Elianne: she is still keeping me up half the night, so I am one tired Mama. She isn't big on napping either, so the daytime hours are non-stop busy. Thank God she is so lovable, because it is only my adoration keeping me from collapsing. She smiles all day long, follows me around the house then stands up behind me and holds onto my pant-legs (which makes it impossible to do any form of housework). She and Anissa are hilarious together, having crawling races around the house, "dancing" (in Elianne's case, bouncing up and down and clapping) and just somehow making each other laugh. Elianne can clap, beats her chest and does a Tarzan imitation, pulls herself up on everything and stands up for a second or two on her own. Whenever she hears the word Papa she looks anxiously at the door, and when Mehdi does finally make his entrance after work she squeals with delight. Having a baby in the house is so much fun it's almost tempting to consider having another...almost.

Boo!

Anissa has taken a huge interest in writing lately, and that's her new favorite word to write among her drawings of "phantomes, sorcieres et citrouilles". I wish I had learned French at her age, because her accent is much better than mine will ever be. On Halloween day, Elianne and I got to attend the Halloween bash at Anissa's school (where she's too shy to utter any of the French words she says so well at home!).

Anissa went as Cinderella and Elianne was a very sweet little kitty. Elianne even let me paint a nose and whiskers, but Anissa would not let me near her hair to make a fancy princess do...she insisted on doing it herself, which resulted in more of a wild country peasant look. And I would have photos to demonstrate, only I forgot to charge my camera batteries. To redeem myself, I do have few shots of trick-or-treating that night, during which Anissa decided to change her costume 10 minutes before we were to head out the door. Thankfully, it was easy enough to throw together a black cat ensemble, and we were out the door with some neighborhood friends (two very handsome knights named Isaac and Toby). Mehdi and Elianne joined us for a bit, then went back inside while we continued towards Isaac and Toby's house. We left them there and made our way back, flashlight in hand, stopping at the occasional house.

I have to say, even though Anissa had been so difficult that day I'd reached the desperate point of threatening to cancel trick-or-treating, I really enjoyed that night-time, giggly stroll with my little black cat. It's rare that we have that kind of time together, sharing something magical, in no hurry to go anywhere or needing to meet to the demands of a very vocal baby sister. I'll have to make a point of doing things, just the two of us, more often.