A Tale of Two Mommies

…because more seems excessive…

What the Internet Doesn’t Tell You about Developmental Milestones

I’m becoming increasingly convinced that “developmental milestones” is code for, “sh*t your kid learns to do when you aren’t paying attention for the purpose of killing or maiming themselves.”

I’ve spoken of this a few times in my posts, but my latest experience was this morning.  Little Man rose for the day a good forty-five minutes earlier than he almost always does, and that’s a highly conservative calculation.  My internal clock (read:  bladder) notified me it was a reasonable hour to awaken…a good thirty minutes later than I normally would.  I figured I’d be lucky to knock off half my exercise regimen (read:  valued me time).  No dice, barely any of it was accomplished.  My morning disposition was unreasonably bitter as a result.  I blame pregnancy.  Regardless, my son beckoned.

His morning routine accomplished without incident.  I asked him to keep himself occupied so Mommy can exercise a bit in the other room.  He complied.  I figured I would maybe get twenty minutes, which would be fine.  At that point I can easily finish during his nap.  Mr. Man is clearly growing up because he was playing appropriately for a good amount of time for the most part.  Almost all of the sounds I heard were things I recognized, and, even better, they were sounds…  I say almost because there were two instances that took me by surprise.

I was peddling along, reading from one of the multiple texts I’ve downloaded; digital or not, I’m a bit of a literary hoarder savant.  Then I heard clanking that sounded like pans, but those are locked behind barriers designed to keep the wee ones from gaining access to various cabinetry.  But, if I’ve learned nothing else in his almost twenty-months of external existence, it is that Mr. Man is quite capable of opening anything that is a challenge for me.  I put nothing past him.  Right now I’m convinced that he actually can speak, and it is in sentence structures worthy of Faulkner, but he’s keeping it under wraps for the sole purpose of creating mischief and mayhem without the obligation of answering to a teed off Mommy.

I probably should have been in a hurry to see what horror was in store, but I spent the following thirty seconds trying to deduce what kind of pans these could possibly be…yup, definitely metal…and flat?  What could he possibly be into in there?

I step off our elliptical.  Really?  He managed to figure out there is a drawer under the oven?  I can’t even remember him seeing either of us open it.  But, who am I kidding?  My child is destined for a life of cat burglary and cookie stealing…He sees everything…  In case anyone who is a believer is wondering, God is a toddler who frequently misses naptime…

I can’t be mad because I’ve never redirected him for this type of thing, so I casually place all the various seldomly used cookware on our island.  My son graciously handed me all the items I missed.  There was no other destruction, so  I climbed back on our exercise equipment, assuming for only a few minutes more; Mr. Man surely can’t last too much longer.  It has already been an impressive twenty-five minutes of mostly uneventful independent play.  But, I transferred to reading my smut just in case…The writing is so poor that it is easy to pull away from without too much regret.

More explainable noise; Little Man was doing just fine on his own.  Then ten minutes later more metal clanking.  Now I’m really confused.  Is that a small wire rack and a toaster oven tray?  Did he figure out the child proofed cabinets after all?  Well, not quite, but it was an impressive second.  My son opened the bottom drawer of one of the few unlocked storage compartments in our kitchen, and while standing in said drawer was in the process of pulling the lighter items off the pile of transplanted cookware I only moments prior placed in the middle of our island, convinced they were beyond the grasp of my son’s short appendages.  Clearly, Mommy was delusional and underestimating Little Man’s problem solving skills…

Of course, as I was pulling him out of his self-made step stool, I became all too aware he soiled his diaper.  No hard feelings though, he didn’t set fire to anything this time, but I took the hint…Mommy can run, but she can’t hide…for too long anyway…



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