Will is wild lately. Like, really, REALLY wild. I know a lot of it is normal toddler stuff but sweet Jesus in heaven, he is wearing me out.
This is Spot Goes to the Park. A book belonging not to us, but to the public library. Will has long been a lift-the-flap fan, but has recently started removing-the-flap in lieu of lifting it. When he takes his nap, I have to perform surgery and reattach all the flaps in a bid to avoid the outrageous library replacement rates. Not pictured: Good Night, Construction Site (from which he tore out several pages).
This is the white leather chair in my parents’ kitchen, which Will elected to autograph with a ballpoint pen. Pro-tip: dish soap and water help a little, Soft Scrub and water help a little, rubbing alcohol doesn’t do much and neither do hairspray or hand sanitizer. Nail polish remover will really finish the job, but I’d try that last because it’s abrasive and I’d prefer to leave it as a last resort to avoid (further) destroying anything. Not pictured: the cabinet and the other chair he also autographed.
Not pictured at all because, parental heart attack.
I took Will to this outdoor shopping center yesterday to ride the carousel and train they have there. By the time we got back to the car, it was nap time and he was fussing and crying and pulling the toddler plank move as I tried to get him into his car seat. He loves my car keys to I must have handed them to him while I was trying to hold him down and get him in the seat. I finally got him in the seat and strapped in securely.
On autopilot, I shut the door and started to walk around to my side when I heard, “CLICK.” Then I heard it again, followed by a horn beep, indicating that not only had Will locked the doors with my keys (which were still in his lap), but he’d hit the lock button a second time, for good measure. Anyone in the vicinity had a good laugh I’m sure when I screamed, “WILL! NOOOOOOOOO!”
I ran back around to Will’s side and begged him to hit the unlock button but he just sat there smiling and waving and hitting all the other buttons. Lock (over and over), popped the trunk (no, you can’t crawl through without the key), and all the buttons on the remote to Daddy’s car. Thank God I had my phone in my pocket and not the car, so I called 911 and explained what happened and they dispatched Fire & Rescue.
While I waited, I was standing next to the window debating A. if I was strong enough to smash a window and B. if we were at that point yet. About 10 minutes after I called (longest ten minutes of my life, by the way), I heard the sirens approaching on the highway. At which time Will cheerfully unlocked the doors and said, “Hi, Mama!” when I flung them all open. I sheepishly called 911 back and canceled the call. For some reason, I was able to stay mostly calm during the whole ordeal, but once I got the doors open and the air conditioning cranking and ascertained that Will was just fine, I burst into tears and felt like I was too tired to even drive home.
It’s moments like these when I think, “HOW am I going to have two children and keep them both alive?!” It’s a good thing he’s cute.
And also that he appreciated the $6, 60-second carousel ride preceding the lock-in.