My Beloved Baby Boy

Tonight I was working on cleaning the kitchen and had finally resorted to barring the boys from coming in because telling Ben to put the knife back in the dishwasher and Joshy that I wouldn't answer him if he was whining, ended up proving counterproductive to my kitchen cleaning progress. We set up our leather ottoman in the doorway as a blockade. A blockade that doesn't block much of anything but serves as the line by which punishment comes if crossed. No sooner than I had turned back around to the sink do I catch Ben crawling up onto the ottoman in the corner of my eye. As I turn around and say "Ben" in my warning tone, he falls flat on his stomach and starts to fake snore. I turn back around and he proceeds to hang one leg towards the kitchen. As soon as my head turns in his direction, the leg comes back up and the fake snoring begins again. It is adorable but aggravating and entirely ornery. Every time I start the dishwasher, he comes along and changes the settings or turns it off. I think that the cycle is finished and open it up to a washer full of suds. He pretends to be sleeping and as soon as you close your eyes, he blows the air through his lips at your face to get the puttering sound along with flying spit. Or he will poke you in the eye while saying "eye" because he has learned that the excitement of him saying the right word somehow makes the eye gouging okay. His vocabulary is exploding but mostly with phrases like "no..no...bite" and "no more". That and his colors. The other day he even started to count along with Jessi when playing hide and go seek. Best of all, though, is his "sorry". He will say it in this sing song tone and gently rub your cheek. It is almost worth being hit. He knows "Bumblebee" and "Spiderman" which he sings to the Ironman theme song. Joshy could sing you the tune and correct you when you inevitably get it wrong. When the music is loud and he begins to dance, instead of moving his legs, he just moves his arms up and down like he is doing the...well that dance from the sixties where they are moving their arms up and down. All I can think of is Mash Potato but I am pretty sure that's not it. My baby is a ball of wonderful craziness embodied in the boy with his leg hanging into the kitchen pretending to sleep. I wish I had a picture that captured his precocious smile and ornery glare but somehow the times when it shows up are not the times I am thinking "take a picture" but more a "you better not put that marble in your mouth"...