My son’s morning typically begins with the same mission: “search and destroy – eating optional”.
The picture below was taken just this morning: besides systematically examining and deconstructing the play mat, my son also makes a beeline for anything that looks like a marker, preferably one my daughter was kind enough to leave uncapped: the messier the better. His other love? He will pass a giant pile of toys entirely if there is some kind of tag or receipt on the floor. Perhaps he is doing cost analysis?
This is one strange kid. He has, since birth, rubbed and patted his own head when drinking a bottle. He examines his hands from every direction, as of putting together some odd baby Rubik’s cube. He has a laugh like a braying donkey and speaks in pterodactyl and you would think forcing my eyelids open with his chubby fists is the coolest thing ever (my eyelids disagree): is he trying to figure out how they work or does he just like to hear me squeak?
I admit it, I don’t understand it but I cannot help but admire the little chap. I love the heck out of him and he fascinates me daily. I just hope that once his verbal skills move past “mama” he can explain some of this to me. In the meantime, I choose to believe it is all a part of his strategy development for eventual world domination.
The Mischief of Minions 
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