Let me start this post by saying I love Daniel's current stage of development. He is talking more and more, he is developing a sense of humor, he has quite the personality. I love his adorable antics and find him to be the cutest child in the world. Just last night, I was thinking that whoever came up with the term "terrible twos" must never have known a child like mine, because there is nothing terrible about this little boy. I still believe all that, but...
Monday mornings are never our happiest time. We love having Brian around on the weekends, and it is always sad to send him off to work on Monday. In addition, I often take the weekend "off" of house cleaning. It is never intentional, but somehow the house is always a wreck by Monday morning. This Monday was no different. We got Brian out the door to work, and I began wading through the clutter to start our day. As I was washing up the breakfast dishes, I took my eyes off Daniel for perhaps a minute. He was playing nearby, and I could hear his little voice, which lulled me into a false sense of security. When I turned around, this was the sight that met my eyes. (Imagine the light fixture swinging slightly, and Daniel's feet almost lifting off the table top.)
I happened to have the camera close at hand, so while I was shouting, "No, Daniel, let go of the light fixture and get down from there," I was also snapping a few shots. Talk about sending mixed signals to the little guy. He was probably wondering, "So, am I cute or am I in trouble?"
After this escapade, we headed to the basement to do some laundry. When we got to the basement, I saw the closet I had begun cleaning out on Friday afternoon and never finished. Random stuff was strewn everywhere, so I quickly began stuffing everything back into the closet. I guess I hadn't learned my lesson from the earlier incident, and I took my eyes off Daniel again. This time he found a permanent marker, and decorated his hands, arms, pajamas, and one of his daddy's prized possessions. I screamed, "Oh, no!" which led to Daniel repeating "Oh no!" about twenty times as I hauled him upstairs and into his crib. With him contained, I raced back down to the basement to clean the marker off Brian's stuff. Thankfully, my dilapidated magic eraser was up to the task, and the marker came off. Pretty much. (By the way, thank you Melissia for introducing me to magic erasers. Everyone should have one, especially people with marker-stealing two year olds).
I was a little tired after all this hulubulu. (Did I mention Daniel had been up four times during the night?) So, I decided the best thing for me was a shower. I have developed a great system for getting bathed each day. I pull the playpen in front of the bathroom door; load it with books, toys, and snacks; and let Daniel play away while I shower. I can peek out through the bathroom door at him to assure he is safe, and I get to shower in peace. Pretty much. On this glorious morning though, I glanced out of the shower to check on Daniel and found that he had stacked up all of his toys, used them for leverage, and climbed out of the playpen. So much for peaceful showers.
All of this took place before 9:30 a.m. I am feeling exhausted and a little exasperated, but I still love this stage. Pretty much.
I was preparing to change the sheets, and Daniel was crawling around on the bed. I went into the next room to grab something, and soon heard his little voice saying, "Hep, Mommy, hep! Tuck!" (If you don't understand Daniel speak, this translates to "Help, Mommy, help! Stuck!") I found his predicament pretty funny, so I took a few photos before helping him out.
We call the above move "leg-in-the-air." He did it once on accident, and we thought it was hilarious, so he adopted it as one of his tricks. It always gets a laugh from us, but I find it particularly funny when he is less than fully clothed.
Daniel came racing around the corner in his cozy coupe making a siren noise: "Whewwww---ewwww, Whewwwww-ewwww!" I noticed he had balanced an empty plastic container on top of the car, obviously as a makeshift siren light. I helped him out by taping it down so that he could turn corners without it falling.
He seems to be playing nonchalantly, but he is obviously prepared for any emergency. Notice the hard hat and backpack.
When one pacifier just won't cut it, why not try a second?
