Thursday, May 26, 2011

Mr. Cranky Pants

Lately, Maxwell has found his one true love.


(Also frozen yogurt and milkshakes.)


More specifically: Max has decided that, when screaming, the best tactic is to throw your 24 pound body on the floor and let out ragged sobs of grief because your mother doesn't understand you or how much you want a chocolate milkshake, even though you're not technically old enough to drink any milk other than the milk that comes outta your mama.

So, when Max threw himself on the floor (for the fifth or sixth time) yesterday morning after a particularly rough encounter with a toothbrush and playing too hard with Tonka trucks, I did what any other self-respecting mother would do: Threw myself on the floor with him, four feet out of his reach.

Which made him cry harder... and then made him lift a leg and crawl towards me slowly, throwing himself back on the floor with each step (knee step?) until he was sobbing hysterics while laying tummy side down on my back, which was basically the funniest thing I've ever seen him do. Then things got funnier when, as soon as I started laughing, he stopped crying and (after a hug), started laughing with me.

I think I'm about to have a toddler.
Heaven help me.

(We're excited.)