Say it isn't so, Ethel.

Many of you remember how I came to have an iphone 4. If you don't, please click here.

And now, many of you will remember for a long time how I lost my iphone 4.

Sigh.
also,
SERIOUSLY?!?!

1. The battery ran out.
2. I plugged it in next to my bed to charge.
3. I went into the kitchen for a minute--maybe two.
4. I heard the tell tale "splash" of George dropping something into the toilet.
5. I forgot that he knows how to unplug my iphone 4...

George, in the Bathroom, with the Toilet

Yes. The adventures continue. Just let me know when you get tired of these stories.

This morning I could hear splashing (as usual--why can't we keep the doors to the bathrooms shut?) coming from the bathroom. I walked in to see George, trying to shove an inflated balloon into the toilet. It was hilarious, because, obviously, it wasn't sinking like everything else he throws in, and he was getting frustrated. He just kept pushing harder and harder, and the balloon kept popping up. I started laughing, which made him jump in the way that he does when he gets caught doing something he shouldn't be doing. (Then he usually does this little run in place and in circles move, like he is trying to run away but is so flustered because he got caught, he can't actually move forward to get anywhere--he looks like a cartoon character.)

I removed the balloon from the toilet, to find his favorite book about Jesus floating in the water--ruined. Sad, sad, sad.

And here is a video from last week. At the beginning, you will see him splashing around, and then he quickly stands up straight for a minute--if you look close, you can tell he is drinking water off the object he has dipped in the toilet. It was the sound of slurping that alerted me to the fact that he was in the toilet again.

I still get nauseous thinking of how long I just stood there, allowing the "fun" to continue in order to document the whole thing (shudder.):

Cleaning and Calvin Continued...
-written by the Eldest Child

I have declared this day successful. First we cleaned the whole house and then spent the afternoon making these:






I have decided to look into snow sculpting as a potential occupation for when I grow up.
To complete the day, we had dinner from Kneaders and are now watching a movie. I think we should have school off more often.

Quote(s) of the Day

Ah, George. He was doing so well in the meeting, too, until he saw the sacrament trays with the bread--now mind you, the first time we let him have some was last week, but HE REMEMBERED, and started screaming at the deacons, louder and louder, to try to get them to bring him some. I had to take him out, with everybody smiling at me--they know how he is. Anyway, when I brought him back in, he immediately started screeching again, in the hopes that I would take him back out. The Dad handed him to The Eldest, and told her to take him out.

It was a lovely meeting from where we were.

When she came back in after the meeting was over, she handed him to me and said, "Your son is impossible to control," and then she turned around and left. I immediately thought of my friend Dan Patrick's catch phrase:

"You can't stop him, you can only hope to contain him."

Yeah. It's like that. Exactly.

Houston, We Have a Problem

George: 14 months old, kind of a "runt" size-wise (let's just say, he doesn't look big enough to be walking, according to the majority of people who comment about it...when he goes pro, people will think he looks too small to be dunking, too), and, apparently, has Spider-man-type tendencies.

HE CLIMBED OUT OF HIS CRIB!

As you may know, the morning nap is becoming somewhat of a joke. Sometimes he takes it, sometimes he sings, plays, or causes any trouble he can find within the vicinity of the crib walls (or just outside the vicinity, as the case may be).

This morning, I put him down, because he was acting tired...and I made sure there wasn't anything sitting on the dresser or changing table he could reach. He chose to sing and play with his blankets and wander around the crib for 45 minutes, at which time I considered getting him out, but then thought, "No, I will leave him in there while I take my shower because at least I know he can't get hurt in his crib" (unless he's hidden a steak knife under the blankets, which, at this point, would not be surprising).

So I took my shower.

You know how sometimes the Spirit says things to you like, "you'd better get out of the shower because he is climbing out of his crib and you'd better make sure he is ok," and then you think "no, there is no way he can climb out of his crib, he is too young/small--why did I even think that weird idea?" (Anyway, the water in the shower is warm, so you stay in just a bit longer.) And then you hear a "thud" or "slam" and you think, "did The Dad just come in the house?" And then you suddenly feel compelled to get out of the shower because the "he's climbing out of his crib" comes back to your mind? And though you are still thinking, "there is no way," you put a towel around you and run down the hall naked. And as you approach the baby's room, you hear crying and banging that doesn't sound like it is coming from where the crib is in the room? In fact, it sounds like it is coming from RIGHT BEHIND THE DOOR TO THE ROOM? And when you open the door, there is a little, tiny baby in feetie pajamas standing there with a giant "I'm a big guy now, Mom" smile on his face, but also tears in his eyes and on his cheeks because he was crying to get out of the room and, possibly, because the drop to the floor was a bit scarier than anticipated?

You know how that happens sometimes? Well, that is what happened to me this morning.

Listening and promptly obeying the Spirit...I'm still in training, though getting better.

Luckily, we can move the mattress in the crib one more level down. That will be happening today.

P.S. Here is what the crib looked like the other day after "naptime:"

The Perp-evidence in hand:

And here is later that day, when he managed to reach the box of needles, thread and pompoms I had sitting on my dresser:


And earlier that day: demonstrating what he likes to do with clothing. It ranges from tiny socks to large shirts, but most of the time it ends up being Ted's underwear (which we really need a picture of) because Ted's laundry shelf is right at George's level. He wanders around, "wearing" it, as he goes about his other tasks.

I think he thinks he is getting himself dressed, because he knows that when a person gets dressed, he puts things over his head to get them on.