Our wee one has finally caught on to the fact that there is some straight up Darwin at work here in our house.
Secure in the knowledge that he is faster, stronger, and in possession of far more teeth, Kellan routinely strips Larissa of whatever toy or food item she holds in her hand and she is loathe to do more than screech in retaliation.
She will then exhaust much effort to crawl over steps and toys and laundry mountains to reach a coveted front row seat to the activities of her elder siblings, only to be cruelly manhandled by security and deposited back into the general admission area - i.e. another room altogether.
Doors are constantly closed on her, cabinets locked, valuables placed high upon tabletops — Larissa’s reach quite literally exceeds her grasp. Frustrated by life’s inequities and angered by the obvious glass ceiling imposed upon infants, she has decided that nobody puts baby in a corner. Or behind a gate.
Tired of being at the mercy (and feet) of others, Larissa is about to stand and deliver. She has decided that it’s just about time to crawl out of the primordial mud and evolve into the land of the bipeds.
Walk softly and carry a chapstick. A stethoscope doesn’t hurt your cred either.
