Big day around here if you like breaking stuff.
It all started this morning when Ryan and I were downstairs performing our two-man show called "SIT IN YOUR CHAIR AND EAT YOUR BREAKFAST." I was starting up the coffee maker when I heard a funny metallic noise and then a big THUMP.
I found Wes, who was not SITTING IN HIS CHAIR EATING HIS BREAKFAST, standing at the top of the stairs, looking sheepish. He was looking sheepish because he had just ripped the baby gate right out of the wall, leaving a two-inch hole in the drywall.
Thank goodness Ryan has so much drywall experience, heh heh heh! Also, I think his office needs a "Performing emergency home maintenance necessitated by two-year-old" space on their time sheets because this is the second time this week something has gone horribly wrong five minutes before he was due to leave for work. Yesterday morning involved a diaper and a whole lot of Resolve. Enough said. Really.
So Ryan got the rest of the gate off the wall so we could walk through the hallway without stepping on it and went to work. And then our babysitter came and I gratefully spent six hours in a quiet, windowless room reading about wind.
After I came home we played in the back yard for a while. It was a nice warm afternoon and the kids played with the hose while I held James or pulled weeds. It was all very peaceful and calm, so I went inside to make dinner while the kids continued to play.
I was almost done cutting up the potatoes when I heard that maniacal cackle that usually means they're doing something wrong.
Turns out Wes was standing on our glass-topped patio table. Dancing. Naked.
I've said it once and I'll say it again: That kid is going to join a fraternity one day. Probably one that gets put on probation. Even though he did not fall through the table and slice open his aorta, he still got a time out for that one. But it was really, really hard not to laugh.
Act III of Wesmageddon occurred after Ryan came home. I was plating up dinner when I heard a woosha woosha woosha noise coming from the general vicinity of James room. And then what sounded like a thirty-pound bag of potatoes falling onto the floor. And then hysterical screaming.
Ryan found Wes in James's room, having jumped so forcefully in the crib that he had pushed the whole mattress and spring down through the bottom like a fun house trap door, causing him to roll down the "hill" and crash into the floor.
Ryan had to bend the metal back into place with a hammer so James would have a place to sleep tonight. The whole time I nursed James to sleep I was thinking about how on earth I was going to get through this phase with my relationship with Wes intact.
And then I remembered the time when Charlie was two-and-a-half and I dragged his dresser out of his room in a fit of rage one day because I had found him standing on top of it throwing books instead of napping (while I was trying to talk on the phone with my advisor about my defense date). And Charlie is perfectly lovely and largely not a psychopath today. So I guess I just have to wait it out.