Ever since we knew Z was a boy, everyone chimed in "Boys are so different, just you wait...", followed by an all-knowing grin. And every time I heard that, I shrugged it off. All kids are different. And L is a pretty mischievous, adventurous, daredevil-ish, trouble-making kid herself, how much "worse" could a boy really be?
And then Z came along. And he got mobile. And okay, okay, fine. I'm a believer. Boys are definitely "worse". Not necessarily "worse" in a bad way, but "worse" in a this-kid-is-gonna-make-me-go-gray-before-I'm-30 kind of way.
It started out as semi-cute normal baby stuff -- unrolling an entire roll of toilet paper into a pile on the floor, emptying the kitchen cabinets, pulling fuzz out of stuffed animals, chewing on crayons, etc.
Then, it got, well, gross -- he discovered the toilet and the trash. Splashing in the toilet, throwing things in the toilet (a full roll of toilet paper, his binky, and a shoe, to name a few), picking through the trash for things to taste or scatter around the house.
He puts ANYTHING in his mouth. He knocks over the lamp regularly. He pushes buttons on the TV / stereo / DVR, making it impossible for anyone to watch a single show without a couple static or loud music blasts. He laughs at "no", and has the most mischievous grin, just like L...
He started walking early (10 - 10.5 months), and he's got some serious speed. If I see him with something he shouldn't have and say his name, he just looks at me, gets a death grip on whatever it is, then runs excitedly through the house trying to get away.
And he learned to climb. He can climb into the toy box (and loves standing on the ledge to reach the top shelf). He can climb onto the living room furniture (and "jumps" like crazy when he's up there, or grabs ahold of the fish tank, or walks a bit too close to the edge). He can climb into the bath tub (last time he was fully clothed, and climbed in head first, when the girls were in there...he didn't care that he went underwater for a second, but he was SUPER mad that we took him out...). He can climb the ladder to the top bunk of the girls' bunk bed. He can climb onto the toilet, then onto the bathroom counter. He can climb onto the kitchen chairs, then onto the kitchen table. (L didn't make it to the table top until she was 16 / 17 months, Z got up there when he was 12 months.)
He loves using stools and things that help him climb higher and faster. He especially loves climbing on things with wheels (ride-on toys, push toys, etc). You know, just to give me an extra heart attack now and then.
And speaking of things with wheels, last week Z was climbing inside L's cozy coupe. Instead of opening the door, he decided to climb out the window, so he could try climbing to the roof (of course!). And the whole thing fell over on top of him. He cried for a few seconds, but quickly got over it. And a little while later, he tried climbing to the roof again (and it fell over on him, again). If I hadn't put it away, I'm sure he would have tried a third time. And a fourth time, and a 1084756871346130895-th time.
I need to grow a few extra eyes and arms. Heck, I should get myself cloned. Evidently one of me just isn't enough to keep this boy out of trouble. And he's only 13 months. I'm sure it's only a matter of time before I find him on top of the fridge, or hanging from the ceiling fan. Seriously.
Any ideas on how to keep my sanity at least somewhat in tact?
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