Don't Mind My Face

Sometimes I feel bad that I have to corral my children.  Izzy doesn't mind it.  It's more of a fort to her, but to Noah, sometimes it's a prison.  He looks at me through the holes with desperation.  If he could talk I'm sure he would plea his case and promise that he wouldn't chew the speakers, he already broke one, and he wouldn't maul Dakota or get into the diaper pail and trash; he wouldn't open the bathroom door, yes he can open it now, and stick things in the toilet including his arms.  But as much as I love my son, I know he cannot keep that promise.  He's a boy; a one-year old bundle of destruction and chaos who finds so much joy in every little thing he discovers, which is why they are only corralled when I need to do something around the house and can't really keep a good eye on them.  I want my children to discover, learn and enjoy themselves.  I discover so much with them.  It's amazing what you can see and learn when you look at something through the eyes of child.  Oh, but back to the point of my story.  The other day, Kris and I were in the corral with the babies.  We were lying down, and Noah came over and started climbing on top of us.  I thought it was so cute that he was being all cuddly, until I realized that he was using me as leverage to try and climb out of the corral.  He made his way to my face, stood up and tried to balance himself, still on my face, as he made his attempt at escape.  It didn't work, he got upset, and instead he had to settle for some wrestle mania, which quickly took his mind off his master plan, for awhile at least…