Little Mr. Up-To-No-Good! Alessandro's a total handful now! He's a stealth trouble-maker who knows how to open the cabinets and climb onto the sink vanities, open drawers and pull out every single hair bow in the girls' collection and throw them about the floor. He even climbs into the chicken coop after eggs.
If things are too quiet, I know to look in the bathroom where he will be standing on the vanity with the water running, bar of soap in his hands, rubbing the mirrors and all his clothes down with the stuff. Thank goodness he hasn't rubbed his eyes yet or somehow burned them with the soap.
Last night, I thought the girls were brushing their teeth while getting ready for bed. "Girls, you're wasting water. Shut off the water while you brush, please," I call. "It's not us, Mommy. It's Alessandro," they answer from their room. Gasp! I sprint up the stairs to find him standing on the double vanity in his footed pjs, both sinks blasting water, one half filled and the other, just about overflowing (he somehow plugged them both up). He's dipping a wet washcloth into the water. Wet marble, footed fleece pjs, child standing....so dangerous! He instantly knows he's not supposed to be where he is and tries to jump down. I panic that he's going to fall. This is going to kill me!
This morning: While cleaning the Cheerios Alessandro has dumped all over the downstairs like some sort of ticker tape parade, I hear the sink water running again. I drop what I'm doing to dash upstairs to rescue Little Man from himself again. Along the way, I remind the girls (who are being silly instead of finishing to straighten their beds) that we need to leave in 2-minutes. I turn off the sinks (again!) and get Little Man down from the vanity (how does he climb up there, anyways?). Ava comes in and informs me she's peed herself laughing too hard about Bettina's joke. Both she and the bed are totally wet. So, I strip the bed while she changes, start the sheets in the washer and head back down. We're going to be late for the dentist! We're all at the front door ready to leave. Wait - where's the baby.... I run back upstairs and find him on the floor of my bathroom with all the band-aids and toilet paper strewn around him. He sees me and tries to bolt, but I've got him cornered. I pick him up like a sack of potatoes and he kicks and screams in objection. I think to myself, "Where's the straight-jacket!!" However, I haven't quite figured out who it's for....me or the mischief!
