Nola’s attempts at walking have been very frequent, very nearly upright and often bruising. Now that she’s craving a faster method of transport than hands-and-knees motoring, her crawling has gotten quite rapid, too. Which means that every now and then she can’t keep up with herself and kersplats, face first, right into the floor.

We wanted to get some floor tiles for her play area in the living room, which is where the majority of her mind-boggling wipeouts occur. But seeing as we have a modestly sized condo, we couldn’t really put down primary colored blocks of ABCs and 123s without this work-at-home daddy losing his sanity one foam tile at a time.

After much research, Constance found something totally functional and awesome: foam tiles that match our floors.

Now, after a long day of peek-a-boo and force feeding Cheerios, I don’t even have to pick them up each day. And I don’t feel like I’m trapped in children’s limbo (I always imagined children’s limbo to look like a cross between a carnival, Victoria’s Secret, and a daycare).

Who says you can’t have a baby and keep your style, too? Not this dad. Not this dad at all.

Filed under: Baby Prep, Daddy Style, Daddy Things