I’m at my sister’s. She has a four year old and a one year old. She has all the sockets covered. I think she could do a lot more to child proof the house — enclose both children in a plastic bubble like in the movie — I’m totally neurotic and would do this if I had kids. That’s why I don’t have any — no that’s not why I don’t have any. I never wanted any because I just never cared to be a mother. Period. It’s too hard, with covering up sockets and what not.
In the 1960s we didn’t have all this awareness and consciousness about this and such. You’ve seen those funny little pieces about how the kids of yore didn’t have child seats in cars or bike helmets, etc. My mother was having a shindig in the living room back in the 60s and I waddled back into my room and plugged the socket with one of her huge black bobby pins. She happened to be walking down the hall and saw me as I just recovered from the shock of my life. What did she do? Probably just pat me on the head before lighting up a another cigarette and smoking up the entire apartment with her friends. Yep, she smoked, like a chimney when I was growing up. My brother and I didn’t have asthma either — I’m not saying this was okay. Just saying.