Now, pretty much every morning and after every naptime this is what I am greeted with:
I often leave two or three pacis in his crib so he can find them for himself in the middle of the night. In the morning it's not unusual to find him with one in his mouth and one in each fist. He shuffles around to collect them or something. Hey, whatever floats your boat.
But the standing up is getting out of control. He loves all of our planters, the coffee table, the kitchen stools, the bed frame, everything but the very nice new toys I have been buying him. Tsk tsk, what a cliché. Nonetheless, this is what it's like around here:
Exploring his toy box
(Although I'm not sure what he's looking for- he never finds anything in there as remotely interesting as, well, the remote. Ha ha)
Underneath the dining room table:
Yes, it WOULD be fun to pull all the cans out of the pantry.
Loving the coffee table
I don't have pictures of all the times I catch him flinging dirt from the plants because I'm usually running for the vacuum cleaner.
When he does play with "Ashton approved toys" I might as well be living in a casino with all the sounds and lights. They all seem to play Pop Goes the Weasel, and, even more bizarre, Alouette. Alouette is a French song about plucking various parts of a bird. ??? I'll spare you a video, but notice Tate in the background looking utterly bored (and ruining our couch at the same time).
Notice the playmat. It's new. We pushed aside our living room furniture and got rid of a chair so the dining room stayed after all :)
I am behind on blogging so stay tuned this week for more new posts!