Surfin' Smurf

We appear to have spawned the bookmuncher.

It stemmed from when the lad started getting into all manner of drawers and cupboards. And before you say "get some childproof locks"... well we have.
And he's worked out how to get round them too.
The best thing for keeping cupboards closed, we have found, is one of his mums hair-ties twisted to give optimal tension and looped around opposite handles.

However as dad was in the kitchen schleping through the dishes while mum was away at a big-wig conference in Canberra (which, by the way, was her first night away from the boy since conception...), dad heard a "rattle rattle" of buffet lock picking, a bit of "bang bang" of a buffet opening, and a subsequent "riiiiiipp riiiiiiip" of tearing of the "A", "B" and possibly half of "C" sections of the local yellow pages.

Indeed ripping up yellow pages appears to be his favourite activity at the moment and he can seemingly do it for hours. (A TelstraII shareholder in a previous life, perhaps?)

When he's not creating phone book confetti, he's been pushing his little truck around. Even more. And thats lead to a sudden confidence in being upright.

Hence when dad sprung him tearing into the Yellow Pages once again, instead of looking sheepish and innocent and all "Dolly did it...", he stood up, balanced there holding onto nothing but an advert for concreters (local), and just for a second gave all watching a sudden "ohmigod he's about to walk.." moment.

He didnt...

But indeed the past few days have brought a rapid increase in the lads free-standing hang time, including an impressive 15 second jobbie in the middle of a Sat'day arvo Baby Bunting frantic new-mum shopping frenzy. (We were offering to hire him out to the mums-to-be for product testing, but no one seemed to take us seriously. So we bought him a new ben and jerry... err... bill and ted.... ummm, no... phil and ted's fancy pants pram.)

The lads also taken a liking to eating inedibles. At first it was stones. We think most of them have been retrieved but that damn law of averages thingy suggests that, just like the infinite size of the universe multiplied by the miniscule chance of life elsewhere = aliens exist, well given the volume of stones placed in the mouth X risk of one getting through, there must be a few swishing through the lads intestine.

Where they'll now be mixing with at least one plum pip (whoops! insert "Dont tell the council nurse" disclaimer here), raw green tomatoes stolen from the garden and, after our long weekend at the seaside of McCrae , about a house-builds worth of sand. In fact he tried to eat so much of the stuff we're surprised he didn't start to poop glass.

Instead, given the recent aquisition of an ice cream bucket full of blueberries straight from the Kinglake farm (thanks Matt and Courtney), and the boys insatiable cravings thereof, he's been pooping a sort of sloppy purple.

Its kinda like opening the nappy of a smurf.

The McCrae trip (thanks Bev and Rob!), however, had many a highlight: his first self-held drink from a sippy cup, playing with the big boys (all of 2, 3 and 5 years old), more attempts to crawl into shipping channels (we blame the swimming lessons - he now keeps going even after his head has gone under) and a bit of star gazing - at 3:30am, from inside a pram, as dad blearily shuffled him around the Arthurs Seat lowlands to get him back to sleep.

A bookmunching blue-poo'ing self-standing star-gazing lock picker.
You cant accuse him of being boring.
Just cute. Print this post