Last couple of weeks have been filled with rage and desperation. Trying to protect the kid from hurting himself with all the dangerous but fun stuff in the kitchen.
The Lady is a bit more towards theory, while I have more practical approach. Instead of "don't! don't! don't!" I say "do it faggot!" while hanging around to save in case of heavy emergency. Hot stove surface thought him pretty quickly, that it's not a place for playing. 10 minutes of crying and 2 hours of red hand later he dares not touch it anymore. Also learned the word for it, if only in his own language: "uuuuuuuuuuuu!". Now everything's "uuuuu!" - food, drinks, bath water, you name it.
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