The Incredible Incidental Imlers

Our little guy loves to eat the baby power.  Since he has been spewing what appears to be battery acid, we have been using said baby powder each night as we get him ready for bed.  And each night, Reed attacks the lid of the powder as if his very life depended upon it.

Tonight, Meredith gets him ready as I prep his bottle.  So far, so good.  When I came in, bottle in hand, Reed had just latched onto the baby powder bottle like a squid taking down a whale.

As I move in to swap out bottle for bottle, one of Reed’s seven teeth hooks the lip of the cap, which goes unnoticed by yours truly.  One deft movement later, the baby powder bottle is up in the air and a cloud of that powder i s engulfing Meredith, Reed and I like BP is engulfing the… well…. the Gulf.

Powdered Reed pops up and starts to chew the powder in his mouth, attempting to avoid the hurried thrusts of his parent’s fingers, which are there to remove the gum-substitute. 

We finally dust him off, having removed powder-blobs from his mouth.  As we begin to take stock of the situation and begin the clean up, Reed once again, dives for his nemesis:

We looked up the dangers and all we can find is that prolonged exposure to the air-borne particles can impede lung function.  We think we are all good.

Stay tuned for Reed’s next big adventure.

As Tiffany was leaving our house last weekend, she expressed hope that all of the brownies she brought over would be consumed.

By the time we went to bed that night, all but two of the brownies had been consumed.  They were de-lish.

The next morning, Reed and I were playing at in the living room while Meredith slept beyond dawn’s crack.

She awoke around six thirty to my shout: “Meredith, get in here quick!  Bring the wipes!”

Reed had a full diaper which had gotten caught upon the inner ring of a bouncy seat that had been converted into a train track:

I’ll let you guess what horrible monstrosity was birthed by that union of happenstance and physical obstacle. 

So, Meredith comes in a’bounding and we get to cleaning; first Reed is sanitized, then the bouncy-seat-turned-train station gets its workover.

As you can imagine, it takes a while to clean out the station.  While we are working on this task, little Reed roams free in every sense of the term.

As I go to clean some things in the kitchen, I see the fruition of Tiff’s hopes from the previous night:

Reed, in his wanderings, had happened upon the brownies – in their tupperware container (pictured above), pulled a Cap ((Cap was a dog of Jake Jones’.  The most gentle dog in the world, he had an affinity for butter and could pry open the craziest things in his search)) , opening the container and devouring the two brownies.

This morning the mildly sick Reed and myself are working on back Hebrew assignments ((or, as I like to call the language, the Curse of Cain)) and playing on the floor.  I have brought in all manner of toys for Reed:

Any 10 month old should love to play with these wonders of wood, metal and molded plastic, right?  Well, guess what my little man was obsessed with?

Yup, he was obsessed with getting at the trash can (had to open and shut the lid like it was administering sugar pills), the bookshelf (he somehow found a childhood book on dinosaurs and even looked through it) and finally, that angel from the netherworld, the power strip.

Hey, at least those books that he was interested in were collections of articles on political philosophy, the philosophy of religion, and the Fortress Introduction to the Gospels.

Reed, the budding scholar; keep your toys, there is trash and books to be had!