September 11, 2015
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I was aimlessly cruising the internet when The Jokester travels into the office with a mischievous look on his face, giving me a random toy before jetting off to the far end of the room snickering. I look at him in amused confusion and return to my computer. Within seconds he engages me again with the same silly toy and a dubious look, subsequently returning to his spot at the far end of the room. The sequence of events occurred one more time before my son exited the room with a chorus of giggles that can only indicate an individual is up to no good. Then I smelled it and followed in my son’s toxic wake out of the room with the question, “Did you make a stinker?” This prompted him to laugh, but not as fully as when I was standing in front of him with the statement, “You got me; you made a stinker.” With that, Little Man erupted in laughter and led the way to the changing table, but, honestly, I could do with less hilarity like that.
September 9, 2015
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Well, I was waiting for it. At some point he was bound to figure out how to open our Tupperware drawer, and last night was that very moment. I walk into the kitchen to be greeted with lids and containers strewn across the floor, and Mr. Man whirling about deciding the exact location of each piece. I didn’t have the heart to tell him it looked like a disaster because he seemed so convinced of the great harmony each placement provided.
With directed attention that I only exhibit at two in the morning after returning from the restroom, Little Man repeatedly selected articles, moved them into various positions on the floor, and returned them to the drawer. That, however, was not the end of the story. Shortly after the selected drawer returns that had me hoping I would not be the one to clean his masterpiece, he would reach back into it and select a place on the floor for the very item he returned only moments before.
My favorite was when he would grab a container or lid and run off with it into the family room, returning empty handed. Sorting through his pile, my son would retrieve something else, and dash back to the family room, only returning with one of the items he just dropped off to its new home. Perhaps this first choice didn’t class up the joint as he hoped?
I’m not sure how long he carried on, but he concentrated so much on his task that he was unaware of the chocolate I was eating. Eventually, the spell was broken, and I was left with a mass of wares that will require cleaning before their true purpose, but a guy’s gotta do, what a guy’s gotta do…