WELCOME TO MY WORLD...

This is going to be my blog. I had strayed so far away, but alas, as if raising a 9 month old who is contantly on the go is not enough, I thought to stretch my boundaries. Blogging away. Welcome to my world. It is the strange, mundane, occasionally twisted, always obsessive over my kid place that I am blogging to escape. :)

WHAT DID JOSHUA DO TODAY?
Joshua threw a fit at church. The girl in the nursery caught me in the hall and asked me with a slight look of terror on her face...
"Why does he have such a strong dislike for the word no?"
What am I supposed to say to that? You know, because when I am told that I can't do something that looks like fun, I usually smile sweetly and go on about my business. He's 9 months old and he knows what "no" means. He has a fit when told "no." She had never seen this precious baby boy throw a fit. A knock down, fall on the floor, kick and scream, tears pouring out F-I-T. She didn't know what to do with him.

To that I answer--well, most of the time I don't even know what to do with him, and I have him for more than just Sunday morning. Ha. Point, Match, Game, I win. I'm beginning to wonder if his new nickname ought to be "Toddler of Terror." With a big bass DUNDUNDUN in front of it. He has begun to figure out how to get around SO MANY THINGS! Including getting into the mailbox and tearing up the mail when I'm not looking, tearing down his gates. Yes, you read correctly. Down with gate-systems, he has figured them out.

And my latest whammy...We do infant potty training in this house. It works really well. Yesterday I dumped the poo chunks into the big potty to clean his chair out, and of course, I blinked. And in went a fist to SAVE HIS POOP FROM THE SWIRLING VORTEX OF DRAINAGE. Of course he wanted to share it with me, while I spent the time doing to hop around dance going,
"Ew. Ew. Gross. Put. That. Back. Right. Now. Gross. Ew."
And he was laughing and laughing. He very gingerly set the poos back in the toilet water, like he had saved a fish. Whether or not he actually understood me is up for debate, but he was proud of himself. He had a fit when I flushed again and took him to wash his hands. He seemed genuinely concerned for the disappearing poop.

And that is how I have spent my weekend. Rescuing poop from little boy rescuing hands.
Not sure that interests anyone, really.