It's a little ironic that on one of my more sour and exhausted days, I write about wanting to add another child to the mix.
Since Ty discovered that the two little stubs below his waist actually took him places much faster if he stood on them, he has been relentlessly curious, determined, and stubborn. He examines, tugs on, topples and deconstructs pretty much anything within his reach and line of sight. This morning, I watched him careen around the living room, one compact bundle of energy and drool, stopping periodically to screech out something that could have been (if I didnt' know better) "don't you do that!", but it came out more like "dondooodooodat!" He then moved on, full of purpose. In a span of maybe two minutes, he had managed to investigate an outlet cover, the dog crate, a cabinet full of CDs, the doorknob to the sunroom, his activity table, and Mika's nose. I finally scooped him up and put him in his playpen. All that motion might not tired him out, but I get beat just watching him.
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