(update from last night's misery-fest: feeling a little better, yet now possibly have an ear infection. Boo-ya. Also, am fully aware that my current scrawniness and lack of appetite is just setting me up for a slow-metabolism rebound, aided, of course by previously-mentioned alfredo pasta, etc. Can't wait.)
SO... I threw the Vaughnster onto the potty in the basement this afternoon, and he grabbed a magazine (he takes after his father), and said, I quote, "That's from Costco."
So I look, and he's holding, sure enough, Costco Connection.
"Um," I say. "Where does it say Costco?"
"Right there." He points to the word Costco.
Which leads me to believe that he's obviously a genius. And also that those marketing/branding experts sure know their stuff, since he can also "read" Walmart, Loblaws, and IKEA.
If only he'd use his smarts for good, instead of evil. After de-cribbing his crib into a Big Boy Bed a few weeks ago, I've just now taken the liberty of installing a baby gate at the door of his room, so even though he can climb out of bed and open his door, he is still somewhat contained. Loud, but contained.
"Help open gate."
"I go oooouuuut now."
"Mommy! Mommy! Mommy! Mommy!"
But stuff, as he's discovered, is not as confined. Laundry baskets, launched over a baby gate onto a hardwood floor, make a racket. Dirty laundry, however, is quieter. And Blankie and Frederick are quite loud, since once they're out of reach, the world ends... not with a bang but a howl.