Not quite hurricane strength, yet I would say some fairly powerful Eli force winds were blowing in our home this morning. I don't know what gets into him. He ate the same cereal and raisins breakfast that he requests every morning. He has started to say, (which is something more like a raspy, yet absolutely adorable, morning shout,) "o's!" and "rainins!" upon waking, paired with his sign for milk so that he is sure to cover all his breakfast bases.
Many mornings he just walks down the hall and promptly begins pushing trucks and making that noise that boys seem to just inherently have nestled into their brains and vocal chords from birth. From the very miniature matchbox trucks to the very un-miniature tonka truck he will drive them on any and every surface, for hours, if I will let him, only stopping for meals and the occasional glance at Handy Manny.
But not today. Today he awoke with a mission to accomplish: to undo. Laundry in a basket awaiting folding from a procrastinating mama,...became a ground covering of wrinkled fabric, fit, he thought, for a dance floor, or a platform for jumping and spinning. Books, sitting innocently on the bookshelf, waiting patiently to be chosen for quiet, colorful, educational reading time,...are suddenly in a pile on the floor, and not, unfortunately, from a ravenous reading party. Blocks, meant for building and sorting,...well, you get the picture.
And as quickly as I can tidy up, he is darting from his time-out rug, (or naughty spot, as I like to say with my silly english accent voice,...wait, maybe that's why he doesn't take it seriously...) to make the next mess. And the absolute best part is that he puts himself back in time-out after each mini rebellion, because he knows. I don't know any tropical storms that are that smart.