When Your Baby Squirrel Is Good At Everything (Except Sleeping)

It was a Tuesday. 2:14 PM. I was standing in my kitchen wearing black leggings that hadn't seen the inside of a washing machine since the previous Thursday and a nursing bra that was basically just a loose suggestion of support at that point. Maya was eighteen months old, and I had turned my back for exactly the amount of time it takes to pour a cup of yesterday's cold brew into a travel mug and shove it in the microwave because I'm a monster who drinks hot cold brew. When the microwave beeped and I turned back around, she was on top of the kitchen island. Not sitting on it. Standing. Holding a half-eaten, horribly bruised banana like a tiny, triumphant statue of liberty. Oh god. I almost dropped the mug.

My husband, Dave, always says I exaggerate her mobility when I tell these stories at dinner parties. But I swear to you, she scaled the drawer handles of the lower cabinets like a professional rock climbing wall. It's like this baby squirrel is good at everything except keeping her actual feet on the actual floor. Seriously, if climbing the cabinetry was an Olympic sport, she'd have gold. I mean, I love her, but she's relentless. The other day I found her sitting on top of the dining room table, completely silently, just watching the dog sleep. How did she get up there? I don't know. The chairs were pushed in. It defies physics. Anyway, the point is, I lunged across the linoleum, knocked my coffee completely over the counter—because of course I did, I can't have nice things—and she just giggled at me and tried to stash the mushy banana behind the fruit bowl. Hoarding. Climbing. Scurrying. It was terrifying.

Wait, Is This About That Internet Comic?

I was complaining about this whole kitchen island heart attack to our babysitter, Chloe, later that week. Chloe is nineteen, studies graphic design, and knows literally everything about internet culture that I'm too old and tired to understand. She laughed when I called Maya a squirrel and asked if I was referencing that Korean comic. I was like, what the hell are you talking about. Apparently, there's this wildly popular internet web novel or comic right now literally called Baby Squirrel Is Good At Everything. From what Chloe explained between bites of our leftover pizza, it's a fantasy story about a girl who shapeshifts into a tiny woodland creature and heals her family trauma with her cute antics. I don't know, it sounds incredibly sweet. If only my actual child was a healing magical creature instead of a feral toddler who tries to store stale Cheerios inside my running shoes. Chloe reads it on her phone in the dark while Maya sleeps. I read the terrifying warning labels on the back of baby Tylenol bottles. Different seasons of life, I guess.

Why They Suddenly Want to Climb the Curtains

But really, the climbing thing was stressing me out so badly. I brought it up at Maya's 18-month well-visit because I was legitimately terrified she was going to crack her skull open on the slate tiles in our hallway. Dr. Miller—who always looks mildly exhausted himself, which I deeply appreciate in a doctor—kind of chuckled and told me it's a totally normal developmental phase. He mumbled something about their brains doing this massive leap where they suddenly realize their bodies can move vertically, not just horizontally. I guess it has to do with spatial awareness and gross motor skills. I mean, it makes sense, but he then casually dropped a terrifying statistic about furniture tipping over, which sent me into an absolute paranoid spiral.

I guess the official pediatric bodies say it's super common for toddlers to just act like literal rodents between twelve and twenty-four months. The hoarding food in weird places, the darting around, the total lack of self-preservation. Dr. Miller was basically like, look, you probably shouldn't even try to stop her from climbing, so you just have to strap your dressers to the wall. So Dave spent an entire Saturday drilling holes in our drywall. He went to Home Depot three separate times because he kept buying the wrong size drywall anchors. He was sweating and cursing under his breath, attaching these heavy-duty anchor straps to every bookshelf, dresser, and TV stand we own. He bought these massive metal brackets that look like they belong on a suspension bridge, not a nursery dresser. But hey, if it stops the furniture from crushing her when she inevitably tries to scale it to reach the baby monitor, I'm all for it. Safety first, even if it destroys our walls. Our living room looks like a maximum security prison for books now, but whatever.

The 3 AM Lifesaver (And A Blanket That Got Covered in Yogurt)

Honestly, the chaotic squirrel energy wasn't just in her legs, it was in her mouth. When Maya was cutting her molars, she chewed on EVERYTHING. The coffee table corners. My shoulder. The dog's rope toy (don't judge me, I washed it... eventually, I think). She was drooling through like four onesies a day, and she had this permanent angry red rash on her chin. I finally caved in a desperate 3 AM haze of sleep deprivation and bought this Squirrel Teether Silicone Baby Gum Soother with Acorn Design from Kianao. Best impulse buy of my life. I'm not kidding.

I usually think teethers are mostly useless pieces of plastic that get lost under the car seat and just collect lint, but this one is pure food-grade silicone and shaped like a little mint green squirrel holding an acorn. It's actually a ring shape, so Maya could hook her chubby, sticky little fingers around it without dropping it every five seconds. I used to stick it in the fridge. Not the freezer, by the way. Dr. Miller said freezing makes them too hard and can bruise their gums, which, great, just another thing for me to worry about ruining. When she was having a screaming meltdown at 4 PM because a tooth was crowning, I'd hand her this cold little squirrel ring and she would just gnaw on the acorn part like her life depended on it. It honestly saved my sanity during the worst teething month of our lives. Plus, you can just chuck it in the dishwasher. If I can't put something in the dishwasher, it doesn't survive in this house. Period.

Speaking of squirrel-themed baby gear, my mother-in-law bought us the Organic Cotton Baby Blanket with Squirrel Print when Maya was born. It's... nice. Don't get me wrong, it's ridiculously soft because it's organic cotton, and the little woodland print is very cute and Pinterest-mom aesthetic. But honestly, it's a blanket. It does blanket things. We used the smaller size for the stroller when the wind was bad, but Leo immediately wiped a half-eaten blueberry yogurt pouch all over it on day two. It washed out fine. Actually it got a bit softer in the laundry. But I'm just not the kind of person who gets overly emotional about blankets. It's pretty, it's organic, it keeps the kid warm. What more do you want.

We also had the Koala Teething Rattle Wooden Ring which was cute because it made a little noise when she shook it, but she definitely preferred the silicone squirrel one for the hardcore molar days. The wooden ring on the koala was great for the front teeth though, so, you know, it's good to have options when your baby is acting like a tiny shark.

If you're currently drowning in the teething, climbing, absolute chaos phase of early toddlerhood, you should probably just surrender now and check out some of the organic baby essentials and teethers before you lose your mind completely.

Real Wildlife Encounters Are Stressful As Hell

The other part of this whole woodland creature identity crisis in my house is my oldest, Leo. Leo is seven and firmly believes he's a professional wildlife rescuer. He is in this phase where he watches these wilderness survival shows with Dave on Sunday mornings and now he thinks he's Bear Grylls. He has this little canvas vest with pockets that he wears everywhere, filled with rocks and twigs and, I kid you not, a half-eaten granola bar from October. Last spring, we were at the park down the street. I was sitting on a damp wooden bench trying to drink my coffee while it was still vaguely hot, and Leo comes sprinting over, entirely out of breath. "Mom. Mom. I found a baby. A real one."

My heart dropped directly into my stomach. I thought he meant a human baby someone had left in the sandbox. No. He dragged me by the hand over to this massive oak tree near the swings, and there, in the dirt, was an actual, literal baby squirrel. It had fallen out of a nest somewhere way up high. It was tiny and squeaking and mostly hairless.

Wait, let me back up. The CDC has this whole terrifying page on their website about not touching wild animals because of ticks and fleas and sometimes ringworm. Ringworm! Which sounds like an absolute nightmare to deal with in a house with two kids and a dog. I think my doctor mentioned once that small rodents don't really carry rabies, but they bite hard when they're terrified. Anyway, Leo was reaching his grubby little hand out to scoop this tiny, squeaking thing up, and I shrieked. Like, full-on horror movie panic shrieked. I grabbed the back of his shirt collar and yanked him backward.

He was SO mad at me. Crying, telling me I was mean. We ended up calling a local wildlife rehabber from my phone right there in the park. Her name was Brenda, she sounded like she smoked three packs a day, and she had absolute zero patience for my panicked rambling. She told us to just leave it alone. She said if you put the baby in a little open box near the base of the tree and step way, way back, the mom will usually come down and carry it back up. We found a discarded cardboard drink carrier in the trash, put the baby in it using a stick so we didn't touch it, and watched from like fifty feet away for an hour. The mom actually came! It was wild. I mean, nature is amazing, but please don't let your kids touch random wild animals. Just buy them some binoculars and tell them to look from far away. It's so much less stressful for everyone involved.

Honestly, parenting a toddler who has entered their chaotic woodland creature era is just a marathon of keeping them alive while they actively try to hurl themselves off the living room furniture. You just survive it. You buy the heavy-duty furniture straps, you find a teether that doesn't suck, you redirect them a thousand times a day, and you drink an absurd amount of coffee.

If you need to stock up on things that might honestly help you survive this feral phase, shop Kianao's organic and safe baby gear right here before your kid scales the pantry shelves and eats all the snacks.

Some Questions I Get Asked About This Whole Mess

• How do I stop my toddler from climbing the furniture? You don't. I mean, you can try, but they're faster than you and have no fear of death. Dr. Miller told me to stop fighting it and just secure the heavy stuff. Get those anti-tip straps for your dressers and TVs. And maybe buy a soft foam climbing block set so they've something legal to climb on when they get the zoomies.
• Why is my baby storing food in weird places? Because they're tiny hoarders. Maya once hid a piece of cheese inside my winter boot and I didn't find it for three weeks. It's totally normal, I guess they're just figuring out object permanence and claiming their territory. Just check the couch cushions regularly and try not to think about the crumb situation.
• Are silicone teethers really better than the plastic ones? Yes, oh my god, yes. The plastic ones get weird and scratched up, and you can't boil them or put them in the dishwasher without them melting into a toxic puddle. Food-grade silicone like the squirrel one I mentioned is basically indestructible and you can really get it clean without losing your mind.
• What should I seriously do if my kid finds a wild baby animal? DO NOT LET THEM TOUCH IT. Seriously, do the 10-foot rule. Google a local wildlife rehabber (shoutout to Brenda) and call them. Usually, they tell you to leave it alone so the mom can come back. Don't try to feed it cow's milk from your fridge, you'll just make it sick.
• Is that Korean comic really appropriate for kids? Honestly, Chloe says it's super wholesome. It's mostly just cute fantasy stuff about family healing. It's way better than half the weird algorithm-generated garbage they find on YouTube anyway. If your older kids or teens are reading it, it's probably fine. Just maybe don't let them try to shapeshift in the living room.