You're getting big. You're getting busy.
You've learned to pull every book off of the shelf and brace yourself for the blow if it knocks you on the way down. You don't even cry. And these are my hardback. The ones just for show that we don't read. (We're like that.)
You try and climb the stairs and once so far, you've fallen back and bonked your head on the tile. I was scared. You forgot about it once you had your binky. Still, we're being more careful.(Yes, that was for anyone who's worried I'm negligent.)
I've found you playing with the plunger (eeeewwww) , and sifting through garbage, and trying to dip your hands in the toilet. I've found you eating hair-balls (I know I should clean my floors more often), toilet paper (clean), polly-pockets (and all other toys under the sun), rubber bands, and that nice gray fur that builds up on the bottom of the broom. (or is that just my gross broom because of my gross floors?)
Oh and dead crickets. I've found TWO dead crickets INSIDE your mouth on a routine mouth-sweep. Your mouth. (I know, I know.... floors... but these things are everwhere!)
I swear I'm a good mom. But this time around I've got two miniature people running around leaving bathroom doors open, and toilet lids up, and small toys on the floor. They tempt you with their sounds of joy and laughter so that you're dying to follow their lead and get upstairs, outside... wherever they are. And they.... keep me too busy to clean my floors. ?? (it was worth a try.)
Or maybe it's just what they say. You are ALL boy. Let's chalk it up to that.