I have about thirty ideas for my blog and haven’t written one. You may wonder way. Well…let me ease your mind. I have been too exhausted to write. I have been too exhausted because I have been spending about 90% of my day thwarting my son’s near death experiences. He has now entered what I will call the “Bullheaded, Stubborn, Fit Throwing, Need to Endanger Myself” phase. You think I’m exaggerating? That it can’t possibly be that bad? Well…anyone who spends five minutes with my son has said…word for word…the exact same thing to me, “He’s all boy!” What does that mean exactly? Here are a few ideas.
Aggressive tendencies. While I am cooking with scalding substances, his favorite activity is to walk up and shove on my legs with all his weight to move me out of the way. He literally cuts me off at the knees. He will also roll on top of his sisters to get them to pay attention to him. He throws his cup at me when he has decided he is done with his meal. He is NEVER gentle.
He plays with reckless abandon. He will climb any and every object. He likes to climb our kid sized rocking chair, stand on its arms and then rock it back and forth with his feet. He carries the stool from the bathroom to the kitchen to have better access to all the treasures on the counter. He will climb out of the cart, onto the conveyer belt at the grocery store. His favorite game outside is to climb the large slide to the top…on his own.
He has an insatiable curiosity and moves like a ninja. He wants to explore. But in order to achieve this goal he moves with the silence of a ninja. Three times this weekend he managed to sneak past myself and even groups of people in the garage, and sneak out into the front yard without anyone knowing. Bet that looked awesome to the neighbors to see me close the garage door with my one year old wandering around the front yard on his own…unattended. He also climbed the futon in daddy’s room and pulled a tack off the wall and started chewing on it. Yep, like it was chewing gum. I look over (that’s right…I was SITING RIGHT THERE) and see him chewing on something and then shriek in horror when I pull and sharp tack out of his mouth.
With each and every one of the situations I have rescued him from certain death. But what is my thanks? A fit. Not just any fit…but a dramatic, going boneless, collapse-on-the-floor-for-the-agony-of-it-all fit. So there. I have offered my proof…if King Toot lives to see 2, I will be a miracle worker. Excuse me, I need to go collapse in bed while the house is still quiet. Hopefully he won’t rip apart a stuffed animal and then choke on the pieces while I sleep.
Note: He’s REALLY cute and knows how to work it which is part of his survival skills I think. And more proof he is a boy…I let him see himself in the camera and his first reaction was to see what half-masticated food looked like in his mouth.