Eamon- Menace To West Lafayette

Tonight, I will write about Eamon. For the past two years, he has been the apple of my eye. His blonde curls, dimples and fat cheeks have a way of charming me that my girls have not yet mastered. By the time that I arrived home from the hospital with Eamon, I realized that he was a dream baby. He has been the easiest of our children BY FAR. With Eamon, everything has been black and white. No surprises, no guessing, no shades of gray. Maybe it was the fact that he was our third child. Maybe we just had experience and relaxation on our sides. Having Eamon has truly been a pleasure and a delight.

Until now. This little boy is a menace. He is into everything. He climbs everything. He attracts dirt and grime like sailors to a port on leave. I am so thankful that he is not twins. Recently, I have seen some things happen in my home that I did not think possible. My darling son, who pushes a chair around the house looking for the next climbable object has used his chair to climb onto the stovetop to push the microwave buttons. He has used his trusty chair to begin his ascent to the top of my pantry; using the shelves as though they were rungs on a ladder. He has accessed my countertops and had a knife, straight from the butcher block in his hand. Like Houdini, he is able to perform feats that are not feasible for normal people. In a matter of seconds he was able to grab a squeeze bottle of green food coloring from the counter and turn himself into a green-spotted monster and my floor into a disaster-complete with green grout between the tiles. He often performs these tricks right before the eyes of myself and his father. I swear to you that we supervise our children. He is a one-man wrecking crew. All of the boxes in my pantry look disastrous. They are all raggedy and torn open in some wretched way by this nearly two-year old menace to West Lafayette.

I now have the 4 bar stools I bought for my very tall kitchen counter in my basement. This is because Eamon used his trusted friend, the table chair to climb onto the bar stool and then onto the "tall counter" (approximately 40 inches) so that he could exclaim "ta-da!" This little Houdini, although he can barely talk using recognizable language, can create and execute a plan better than some adults. He is sneaky. I have more than once found him on the front porch....alone. My neighbor saw him walk down our front stairs (only 3) and into the grass in the front yard and promptly returned him to my care. We now need locks at the top of each and every door to the outside as well as the pantry. During the day, I lock all the doors upstairs. Previous to this standard procedure, I found him in my bathroom, as happy as humanly possible in a sea of (unused) tampons and Q-tips. The joy on his face was unmistakable. He had found his own personal heaven. I'm sure there is no rush quite like getting toiletries out of drawers and off of high shelves and having the freedom (because mom is cleaning up a previously created mess in another room) to throw them and bask in the rain of that unnecessary mess (that your mom will clean up 90% of). Yes folks, Eamon is most definitely terrible 2. He is his own little man with a plan. Mama's baby is growing up.

Still, those moments are still there. When he comes out of the bath and snuggles close to me; warm and cozy in my arms. When I read to him and he sips from his Elmo cup and lays in my arms. When he pats my back or bats his huge eyelashes at me. When he hugs me and rests his head on my shoulder. When he puckers up for a kiss. Of course, now I have to make sure that none of these moments are just a trick so that he can bite me or steal my wallet.