Henry hit the eighteen month mark this week He's growing like the proverbial weed. The unnaturally strong and intent, not to be swayed, weed. Apparently, he is no longer content to just hang out with me int the living room, gated off from the rest of the house. He wants to explore. Specifically, he wants to explore the upstairs area.
The other night, as I sat watching my Jeopardy, he walked over to the staircase, surveyed the situation, and after performing the calculations in his head, he locked his tiny fingers through the chinks of the baby gate, lifted it over his head and then threw it out of his way. At which point, he scurried up the stairs. I laughed in surprise and then followed. By the time I caught up with him, he had the toilet brush in one hand and the plunger in the other. Perhaps it was just my imagination, but he seemed to have a manic glint in his eye--a devil may care daring if you will.
This happened three times that night. Henry was not to be deterred. He had seen the new land and was not about to return to the workaday existence below. Who could be content with tiny electronic drums or a piano when there were toilet accoutrement to be had? Not this guy.
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