I think I should be worried.

Nov. 16, 2010

Remember my boy, I wrote about him in that last post...which I wrote about 30 seconds ago.

Well, it seems being a goof is just in his blood. It also seems that he's reworking the definition of goof to include a portion of bad-ass.

I regress.

When I was pregnant, and everyone would ask me what I hoped for, here was my list:

adorable,

perfect,

smart,

easy going,

a bit of a bad-ass.

It looks like I got exactly what I asked for.

This is Oliver destructive face. It's the face he makes when he's plotting something, when he's trying to figure out how to climb up something, or when he's about to run and tackle me.

Today, it was because he decided to find a new use for an old seat; one he hasn't used in a very long time. So he tried standing in it...

And sitting on the back...

And pushing it around...

None of these things were too horrible (or dangerous), and this scares me, because it means he'll figure something much worse out in the near future.