KIERAN HOWARD: Child-proof your home by getting rid of the furniture

Last week I read about a two-year-old boy in the US who’d fallen from one and broken his arm.

I wish I could say that type of accident was rare, but fellow members of the parent club will know the real truth.

If you’re about to become a mum or dad for the first time, I strongly urge you to consider a trip to your local recycling centre.

Get your favourite wood or glass four-legged piece of furniture down there sharpish and off-load it before it fast becomes your worst nightmare.

Even if it’s a Saturday afternoon, and you know you’ll be queuing for an hour just to make it to the entrance, make the ultimate sacrifice and re-home your table.

As decisions go, I promise it will be one of the best you’ve made.

If you do decide to hang onto it, though, it will suddenly become little more than an obstacle and climbing frame for your little one – and a huge headache for you.

I guarantee it’ll also be an obstacle with which they’ll make heavy contact on an alarmingly frequent basis.

It becomes a totally redundant item when they enter the world anyway.

You can’t use it for its intended purpose anymore.

No hot drinks can ever be placed on it again.

But, if you really can’t bare to part with your beloved table, consider confining it to the garage or loft.

Only then reintroduce it to the lounge when you’re confident your child’s no longer capable of connecting their head with any of the four sharp corners.

Or when they’re in their 20s and no longer living at home – whichever comes sooner.

Failing all else, resort to a trio of small stack-away tables.

Kerrie and I purchased some prior to Louie’s arrival.

They’ve proven the perfect buy for our home.

They’re hidden from view during the day, normally wedged between the sofa and armchair, and only make a fleeting guest appearance in the evenings or when we have visitors.

All credit to Grandad and Nanny Gosport, though.

They’re persevering with theirs and have simply plumped for protective pads for the corners.

Unfortunately for them, our ever inventive boy thinks the pads are far better stuck to his elbows and knees, so he looks like he’s going skate boarding.

Anyway, to all those new parents, remember the four Ts:

Table To The Tip.

SMOKE ALARM ALARMED OUR BOY

Warning – don’t burn the toast if you have a toddler in the house.

I learned the hard way after recently char-grilling a slice of bread intended for Louie.

Sadly the smell of burning wasn’t enough to alert me to the fact that I’d slightly overdone it.

By slightly, I mean it looked like it already had Marmite on it.

It wasn’t until the smoke alarm sounded that I finally whirred into action. I’d make an awful firefighter.

I quickly popped up the toast and utilised the old tea towel trick in a desperate bid to disarm the alarm.

The method was initially very successful. Louie remained in the lounge and all seemed well as I peered round the corner to check on his welfare.

He appeared unperturbed by the whole event. Unfortunately the smoke detector then demanded centre stage again.

He ran over and tightly wrapped his arms around me, almost to the point of strangulation.

I felt like I’d been bear-hugged by a wrestler.

It was as if he’d seen a lion wander from our garden, through the patio doors and into the living room.

The high pitch alarm caused a state of panic in him, similar to that which I experienced the first time I heard Victoria Beckham sing.

I definitely won’t be burning toast again.