The kids hate the gates. Some days, they don't hate it too much. They'd play nicely on their own outside and occasionally come up and rock the gates a little and if I throw them some food, they'd be happy again. Other days, the do this for half and hour while I am trying to not kill myself in front of the stove:
So on this particular evening, I lost the battle. I couldn't handle and screaming and I let them in. I realize this looks dangerous but I wasn't cooking anymore and all the elements were off. Nothing was hot. I stood beside the stove and pretended to stir our dinner while Kira did her victory dance. Yes, I am weak.