Today it was when I noticed that things were a little too quiet. I walked back towards the bathroom to find a happy Isaac sitting in the middle of the bathroom floor halfway through unrolling a brand new roll of toilet paper. Some was in his mouth, the rest in a large heap to his left. As soon as I walked up behind him, he turned around and scowled, let a "humph" and dropped his head. Fun over.
Maybe all my stories will be prefaced with my noticing things were too quiet. Maybe they'll always be in the bathroom. Last week it was another "too-quiet" moment when I went searching. Now I'm going to break my own rule and share a bodily-function story. If you don't want to read it, skip this paragraph. I have a slightly gross habit of not flushing "tinkie" when Isaac is napping. The bathroom is right by his bedroom and flushing has woken him a time or two. Since it's just mommy and baby most of the time, I haven't thought much about it. Back to my story. I arrived on the landing of our bathroom door to see Isaac swirling his hand around in the toity, bringing it up to his mouth to stuff in more toilet paper and then turning towards me to grin. I just screamed. A little too long and unnecessarily. His bottom lip fell over, his face scrunched up and I stopped screaming, realizing I was scaring my child with my unearthly loud hysteria. I took a deep breath, walked towards him a little unwillingly, dug out the wad in his mouth, sat us both on the floor, and after a moment of thought, sprayed the inside of his mouth with my bathroom-stationary bottle of vinegar water. On the way out of the bathroom I of course slammed my little toe on the giant metal trashcan and had a fit all over again.
Yesterday I was working at the computer when Isaac came over to hang out with me. He made his way around the chair to the side that is closest to the wall and all the cords for our computer and the many accessories that go with it. This was of course to discuss the different varieties of cords with me. Thin ones, thick ones, blue ones, white ones. This is a new favorite pastime. I sit there and nod and pretend to agree with whatever he is "saying" when his hand will inevitably get too close. I'll warn not to touch. His eyes get bigger, as if say, "how could you think I'd do so?" While he's looking at me with well-feigned innocence, his hand usually "accidentally" wraps around one of the cords that just dangle so temptingly. Then, of course the stern remonstrance ensues. In most cases this is the end and I remove Isaac from this forbidden (and otherwise closed-off) nook. This time he, of course, sat back in defiance and landed on the cords. He just barely joggled the plug and everything shut-off. I felt my insides swell with indignation as I held back the temper tantrum that would have rivaled any two-year-old. The lesson learned was really more for me. I now keep my chair awkwardly placed where there's no way he can get back to this corner. My back hurts, but I'm not picking the router up off the floor twice a day anymore.
I should probably use the rest of this nap time to clean up the living room that currently looks like a tornado just ripped through it.
My two favorite, silly, messy boys.
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