The gate to baby jail the living room was ajar. We’re trying to see if the muppets are capable of conducting themselves with a moderate sense of decorum in larger household arenas. Ok fine, we’re monitoring closely to make sure they don’t kill themselves or anyone else in the near vicinity.
Destroy wandered over and pointed at the jogging stroller. “No sweetie, not right now. Daddy’s cooking dinner and Mommy’s being lazy.”
He replied with a cranky whine, but was quickly distracted by further opportunities to torment his brother. (Search dodged this bullet by quickly driving his Toy Story 3 Power Wheel across the room. And the quickest route between two points is a straight line. This comes in handy since neither boy has figured out how to steer their respective vehicle. Or stop when they drive into the wall. But I digress…)
But what was really going through his mind was: I want to go for a walk. We are going to go for a walk if I have to do it MYSELF. (I have no idea where he got this personality trait…Hi Mom. You can stop laughing now.)
Suddenly I saw a stubborn stocky toddler marching toward the living room. This was odd. The pseudo-grownups have long since acquiesced and ceded this portion of the union household to the developmental whims of Hurricane Muppet. So obviously, neither child has any lasting interest in spending any time in this part of the abode when there are drawers and cabinets to liberate in the great wide yonder.
Destroy reappeared a minute later. He was carrying his socks. He stalked back over and calmly placed them in front of me.
“DOBBY IS FREE!” I yelled.
No one else got the joke.
Destroy had moved on. He was now scaling the center island barstool in a quest for his blue Gonzo Velcro shoes. They were flung to the floor and retrieved.
“Shoes. On,” he announced, pointing at the footwear. “Cock pees,” he solemnly requested – holding a single sock out over his outstretched leg.
I got the message.
Once shod, he stood back up and once again marched back into the living room. Kid was on a roll. Living large and in charge.
Moments later he returned bearing two sippy cups.
This time he marched right past me, disappearing behind the jogging stroller. Curiosity got the best of us and we went to investigate. Destroy was tucking the cups in their little holders.
He looked back up at us with an exasperated expression, scooted around us and climbed up into the stroller. He plopped back into his seat and waved, “HI!” expectantly.
Jon looked at me. I looked at Jon.
“He just did all of that. By. Himself. Consider the thought process that went into that. You kind of have to take him for a walk around the block for that.”
I had a better idea. We strolled to the store for ice cream.
Well played, child. Well played.