Lo, But I Had Forgotten

I'd totally forgotten (or maybe just repressed?) how much damage a one-ish year old can wreak, in what a short amount of time.

And how quickly they can move, even when they still can't walk.

And how determined they are to follow their own emerging agendas. Which are comprised strictly of opening, dumping, scattering, banging, and throwing.

And how often their agendas do not match those of one's own.

And how loudly they can scream when they feel they've been crossed.

And how much noise they can make with, say, the FiOS remote and the coffee table. Or maybe with a serving spoon and the dog's food bowl. Or even with a sippy cup and a linoleum floor. And let's not even talk about the room full of plastic-crap-toys that sing and whistle and toot and flash and ding and whirl and induce epeleptic seizures in those over the age of five.

In summary, one-ish year olds are BARBARIANS. Fast, loud, diaper-wearing, teething, bundles of single-tracked dervish, tearing through your home, tearing it apart. Luckily, they are also soft, warm, chubby, creamy, delicious little rolls of heart-wrenching soft delicious chubbiness, that is soft and warm and snuggly and creamy when you scoop it up and hold it tight. Also, they smell very good. It helps.