Stargate

My computer chair. Once my comfy little niche in the family room where I could keep an eye on the kids and surf the internet has now become the bane of my existence. It is no longer my chair. It is my child's portal into a bright new world full of wonderful shiny new things he has eyeballed for an eternity but until recently was unable to reach.
Every time, and I mean every single time without fail, I get up from the chair, he runs to it and climbs up and in a matter of seconds is on top of the computer desk, phone in hand, frantically pushing as many buttons as his pudgy little fingers can before I come running back to spoil the fun.
Can I tell you how much fun it is to either wheel my chair with me into the kitchen to refill my coffee, or better yet wheel it out into the hallway and put up the baby gate, so I can unload the dishwasher?
Good times.
I let my guard down once and didn't secure the area before leaving to get dressed.
(and seeing as how I never go anywhere, we're talking jeans, t-shirt, and a ponytail. So 3 minutes tops?)
When I returned, I find the baby kneeling on the computer desk calling #9, various DVD's scattered on the ground and my 4 year old reaping the benefits of the treasures raining down and smearing my hand cream in his hair.

Im on my knees in front of the computer typing this, my chair sitting in its hallway prison, doing time for being just too damn convenient.
Good times I tell ya.