Weasel Of Doom

Squeeker crawled up the stairs all the way to the second floor today. Parental house has the living room and kitchen downstairs, master bedroom and guest bedroom on the second floor, and a craft/relaxation/place-to-hang-clothes-to-dry-out-after-washing room on the third floor. Both boys are beginning to get bored with the downstairs, I suspect.

DemonChild now routinely goes into my room on the pretense of looking for Mommy, and then proceeds to play under the bed, unique little snowflake that he is. Whole colonies of innocent dust bunnies have been wiped out. Attempts to put stickers on floors, TV, and windowsills have been made. Furniture that ought not to be climbed upon was scaled. Things were used for purposes they were not meant for. Plants were endangered, and mattresses trampled. Downstairs, DemonChild managed to get almost all the way into the fireplace. Parental units shoo-ed him out before I could take a picture, alas. I am hoping to convince them to give him another opportunity for a photo moment.

Squeeker makes a beeline for the fireplace any chance he has. If thwarted, he heads to the opposite wall and uses the glass shelves for the dvd player and vcr to pull up, another thing he is not supposed to do, mainly because we worry he will slip and hurt himself on the glass. He not so much crawls as runs around on all fours, very quickly, and takes every opportunity to skitter towards places he should avoid as soon as our attention wanders for a few seconds.

The other day at the park, DemonChild walked quite a ways away from Dad. When captured, he had a fat juicy worm in his hand. “I checked, and it did not look like DemonChild had a chance to take a bite out of it,” reports my father. Some things, I just don’t want to know :-)

On Tuesday, Dad drove me and the boys to the Gulf of Finland. We did not have an auspicious start to our adventure – DemonChild fell asleep in the car, and upon being transferred into the stroller said, “спать!” (Russian for “sleep!”) and proceeded to nap for another half an hour. Squeeker started crying as soon as we got to the beach. Then we woke up DemonChild, and neither of them wanted to enjoy the nice sunshine and sand. I finally dragged DemonChild into the surf, which he loved and had a great time with. Half an hour later, he was “All done.” Back under the beach umbrella, Squeeker found a rock he could love, and finally stopped fussing. DemonChild ran around for a while, picked up and discarded unholy amounts of garbage, then crawled into the front seat of the stroller and informed us that it was “time to go home.” I had no idea he knew the sentence!

Sleep continues to be a problem. It took over an hour to get DemonChild to fall asleep tonight. From 9:30 to 11 pm, my work was punctuated by ear-piercing shrieks at random intervals. Hopefully, he will at least sleep in, instead of waking up at 5:30 like the last time. My poor parents are going to be in a zombie-like state by the time we have to leave, if this keeps up.