Tuesday, January 03, 2006

Jaws

He is less than two foot tall. OK, three. Definitely less than three. He can't walk yet. He has no teeth. He can't talk or feed himself. But ye gads he can cause mayhem and destruction.

Driven only by his sheer determination, and his walker-contraption, he propels himself at high speed from one corner of the room to the next in search of his brother, adventure, grabable and edible artefacts and generally to search and destroy everything that isn't nailed down or out-of-reach.

So far he has pulled several posters off the wall, the leapPad has been hurtled God knows how many times, and a book was almost consumed. Still has one damaged corner. He will sit there with a concentration equal to that of a rocket scientist preparing a NASA mission trying to get his little fingers under the corners of displays on the wall and will pick and pick until mission is accomplished. Then he will chuck it on the floor, run over it, trample it, then look down and shout at it.

Do I have a caveman for a baby?

It came to a head this morning when poor Boss wanted me to read a book to him - and we usually give up after the first page due to the amount of whining and hollering by Jaws at the sight of his brother getting and receiving attention from anyone but him, and sure enough we had just opened the first page when a look of shock, and iron determination crossed my six-month-old's face and with lightening agility he bounded across the room with arms flailing, battle-axes swinging, ready to stop the fun (and perhaps shove the book in his gob). "Oh no" I cried. "Here comes Jaws - hide!"... and we ran around the room singing the "theme" tune to Jaws (duh da duh da duh da DUH da) whilst he was in hot persuit, never giving up for a second. We ran one way and like a whippet Jaws was there. We jumped over the sofa and went to the other corner and within nanoseconds Jaws had skittled across the room. We legged it to the bay-window area where a hefty rug means his darlek-like contraption cannot persue us up the incline, and he just sat there and hollered his dissent - backing us into a corner with has war charriot and stomping his feet. All he needs really is blades attached to his wheels to complete the image and quest for total destruction. And we stared each other out. He dared us to open the book, and we dared him to stop us. "We have to show him who's Boss, M".... "I think he already knows dat". ... hmm... then after what seemed like hours Boss hollered for his Dad:

"Dad - HELP! - George is getting us!"



And there you have it. From hereon in we now call him George. Not quite as frightening as Jaws I'll grant you, but still a formidable force to be reckoned with in this house.

3 Comments:

At 8:10 pm, Blogger Hannah said...

Roflol

Samee likes to get little toes under his walker. He will run after Aaliya , who will run away screaming 'Samee trap my feets'. And I say 'Well if you would wear your slippers......'

because I'm nice like that.

Well, I'm glad to hear it's as difficult to read a story at your end as it is at mine. Gee Wizz this age is hard.

 
At 8:15 pm, Blogger Jax said...

Knew there was a reason I didn't like walkers ;)

 
At 8:16 pm, Blogger merry said...

On the other hand, you must be feeling better with all that leaping :)

 

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