I'm not sure who is going to end up in the hospital next; Thomas through actions of his own or Mike and I suffering nervous collapse due to his actions and, so far, narrow escapes.
While I am sure that it's true that he is simply a very good, curious, active little boy, boy oh boy is he putting us through the wringer.
For instance, the other day I was unloading groceries from the car and putting them away. This is the only time the front door is unlocked, not to keep people out, necessarily, but definitely to keep Thomas in.
Thomas decided to help himself to the outside while I had my head buried in the cupboards. Bethy saw him, and being a good big sister, tried to grab his hand to stop him. You can imagine what happened next. He pulled his hand away and ran away from his sister....into the street. Her pursuing.
Somehow I very much doubt that either one of them was looking out for traffic. There's a Lamborghini in particular that really flies down our street once it clears the speed bump...
I heard him shriek, the sound coming from the front, dropped whatever it was I was putting away and probably broke land mammal speed records getting outside.
Here was the neighbor lady carrying Thomas, Bethy a step behind. "He was in the street and fell down," she explained.
I kept stupidly repeating "He was in the street. In the street. He was in the street."
I think I thanked her...I'm not sure. I hope so.
Thomas eating his toes. Charming.
He is climbing up on the countertops, has to jump off the second stair (I knew that target patterned rug was a mistake!) climbs all over the sofas and cannot keep himself from rearranging (and subsequently breaking, but oh well) the ornaments on the Christmas tree.
Here he is stuck (for the gazillionth time) behind the sofa:
Look at that face. We are so in for it.
He has the best manners, blesses you when you sneeze, asks politely "How are you?" in the two-year-old voice, and is a real hugger. He's obsessed with the vacuum cleaner, and loves cleaning in general. He wants to be my "big helper." Mopping is great. Of course, mopping the Persian carpets is not so good...
He's also taken to whaling on his sister. She just stands there and cries. Any suggestions? Currently we're trying "hands time-out": I hold those naughty hands, he says sorry, then apologises to Bethy as well. He also gives himself time-outs in the corner and counts (adorably) to 10.
He's working on potty training, and is not at all interested in the little cute green frog potty. Oh no, he wants the big boy potty. He has fallen off (remember the marble floor tiles?) and gotten stuck in. "Need help!" is a common phrase in our household.
Our biggest fear, besides the speeding vehicle, is the 220 volt outlets. These are serious. I bought 3 different kinds of child covers for them. He can take all of them off. He loves to plug all the adaptors into each other. Even though each outlet has an on/off switch that is always turned to "off", it's no fun unless the "on" light is glowing, so he pushes that on too. Once he got the iron, pulled out the protective cover, plugged it in, and turned on the outlet.
I hear this unholy scream and come running (are we seeing a pattern here? Oh yes, we are). Apparently it hissed and scared the heck out of him. Good.
I asked Rani to keep the iron up on a high shelf and not to show Thomas where it is.
Yesterday, though, he finally did it. The boy obsessed with keys and the "ouchlets":
I had no idea he'd even done it. Heck, I was just looking for the keys to unlock the front door and go out.
"Thomas, where are the keys? Do you know?"
"Inna ouchlet. Thomas do."
Little boys must have some sort of angels looking out for them, because for once, he didn't turn the "ouchlet" on.
Today, a request for comments. Tell me your best "the kid almost died/ killed me" story.
Don't be shy. Mike and I could use a laugh.
(addendum: the 'toe eating', 'stuck behind the sofa', and 'key' photos in this post were all taken within 5 minutes of one another, key photo first. We could really use a laugh! )