Connor is going to be a nightmare when he gets fully mobile. Don’t get me wrong — I’m counting the days — but as I type he is trying to kick my laptop off my lap. No, wait, now he’s alternating kicking his legs and shaking his head back and forth as hard as he can and smacking into me with his remolding helmet. His left side is covered in fur he tore out of Emma Cat. Did I mention he’s lying in bed with me because he’s totally wired and not even close to sleeping? And he keeps trying to steal blankets and pillows from us.
The other night he was lying on the couch with me and he bit my boob. As in, made me bleed. He never breast fed because he didn’t latch in the NICU, and all I know is that he tries to remove any finger that goes near his mouth. Those extended breast feeders must be out of their minds.
He’s just a big ball of toddler energy trying to bust out of a delayed body…but it’s coming. The reckoning. He will soon destroy this house and everything in it.
I can’t wait.