When Zoey was going through her terrible twos phase (actually, she's almost four and the phase shows no sign of ceasing anytime soon (when exactly does a phase turn into a way of life?)), people would tell me, "Just be thankful she's not a boy." "Ha!" I would scoff. "How can a boy be any worse than this?"
See the title of this post? Good.
Despite the fact that he's still not walking (but that should happen any day now; he's starting to pull away from the furniture and stand unassisted and took one itsy-bitsy-teeny-tiny step over the weekend), Zed is a weapon of mass destruction. I swear he watches me out of the corner of his eye, just waiting for me to leave the room so he can climb the stairs or splash in the toilet or knock everything off the living room table or terrorize his sister or whatever mischievous idea pops into his head at the time.
Do you think my neighbors would call Child Protection Services if they came in my house and found him sitting in a monkey cage? Because I'm running out of ideas.
But his latest game is opening the cabinets of our entertainment center and pulling out DVDs so he can gnaw on them and bash them against the floor. Apparently, I've got a little Roger Ebert on my hands.
Last night, Ella and I were in the room as he pulled out three DVDs.
Me (sarcastically): Look! He pulled out Dawson's Creek, Moulin Rouge, and a Tom Cruise flick (Vanilla Sky)! That guy up the street was right! That pink car is turning him into a gay!
Ella: Um? Two of those movies are yours, Queenie.
Me: Oh yeah.
Point, Ella.
Care to guess which one isn't mine? I'll give you a big hint: it's the one that stars my archenemy, James Van Der Beek.
GHS: 3 (due to his destructive nature)
I Stand Corrected
