Xander has been getting more and more adventurous of late. The novelty of being able to walk seems to have worn off and now seems to be considered a means to an end in his now-more-pressing mission to investigate anything and everything. With the ability to perambulate from A to B well established in his repertoire, he is now swaggering around looking for new challenges. And by ‘challenges’ I, of course, mean ‘acts of destruction’.
He has been climbing onto Dylan’s toddler bed to have a good old bounce, hysterical laugh and munch of cuddly toys’ ears for a while and has, only this week, mastered climbing onto the sofas where he literally seizes control and tries to change the channel from CBeebies to something wildly inappropriate. Thank goodness we had the foresight to set a pin number on it!
His favourite pastime though, without a shadow of doubt, is unpacking things. He can’t help himself. If there is any kind of container that has been foolishly left in his presence, he’ll get to work on it like Luis Suarez on an unsuspecting opponent. Boxes, laundry baskets, bookcases, my bag. You name it.
We once had a perfectly alphabetised DVD collection in our front room – I know that’s really dorky but, in our defence, we have loads of the things and it’s the best way of finding them – but this is no longer the case. If we turn our backs for as much as a minute, he’ll be throwing them everywhere, opening the boxes and trying to eat the discs. Maybe he’s done us a favour though – one of the boxsets that was at the perfect height for him was Zombie Flesh Eaters. Perhaps when we eventually get round to putting things in some kind of order we should do Z-A instead.
Chests of drawers are his absolute favourite though. Give him half a chance and there will be clothes, takeaway menus and the kinds of things that I don’t know why we kept in the first place everywhere. No contents are spared; all of them will either end up on the floor, in his mouth or on the floor having been in his mouth. Not only this though. He’s worked out that, if he’s clever and pulls them out at varying extents, there is a ladder of sorts to all the forbidden things on top of the drawers. Monkey!
I remember Dylan going through a similar phase, but don’t recall it being nearly as frustrating. Maybe that’s because there are two of them now and, although he’s long since over such behaviour, Dylan can’t resist a bit of monkey see, monkey do.
I think I’m going to have to start taking them for walks round furniture stores…
Disclosure: this is a collaborative post.