I wish Mason would stop eating the flash cards. And cars. And action figures. And balls, books, chairs, and other assorted items. The child will stick anything in his mouth – and I do mean anything.
While I’m hanging lights in the hallway I see him dart out of the bathroom, and run toward the living room. Knowing he probably has something he should not have, but not knowing what, considering I didn’t hear any drawers open and he wasn’t splashing in the toilet, I jumped off the ladder and went chasing after. With the string of lights still wrapped around my arm – successfully yanking my arm nearly out of it’s socket and pulling down all the lights I’d just spent fifteen minutes hanging. Once I untangle myself from the lights I find my child with the toilet brush inches from his mouth. I run over and grab it before disaster strikes, scold him, and put it where he cannot reach it. I refill his milk, and put some toys in the hallway so he can play with me while I start all over.
Twenty minutes later, we are in his room, attempting to clean the mess he made throughout the night. He closes us in, and laughs hysterically. Runs over and dumps out the bins I just refilled. Laughs again. Runs out of the room, slams the gate behind him. I sigh, I start over. Out of the corner of my eye I see him dart out of the bathroom again. So again I jump up to give chase, trip over the gate, say to hell with it and jump over the gate in my rush to get to my sneaky little monster. This time he’s got a bottle of diaper rash cream in one hand, a toothbrush in his mouth, and a bottle of shampoo in his lap he’s trying to work open with his free hand. Seriously??
Take it away, lock the bathroom door, finish cleaning his bedroom. We go to a friend’s house to check on her pets while she is out of town. Mason chases the cat all over the house shouting “Meow! Meow! I OO OEWWWW” (this last part is what it sounds like when he says I love you). We let the dogs out to play for a while, fill up food bowls – tell Mason five times to get out of the water bowl – let the dogs back in, go to the bathroom while he chases the dogs (the cat hid). Come out of the bathroom to find him burying his matchbox cars in the litter box. Are you freaking kidding me?! Clean him, dig out the cars, clean the cars, clean up the litter on the floor, put the dogs in their crates, come home.
Where he proceeds to bite the dog. I quit.