What happens when it's too quiet

Lately my kids have found a knack for getting "into stuff" so quickly and so completely that it makes my head spin. A lot of it has to do with the move. When I was packing up the old house, Sawyer got into a stack of board games in Justin's room that hadn't quite found their way into a box yet. In a matter of minutes he had Justin's entire floor carpeted with a mismatch of Trivial Pursuit, Taboo and Pictionary game cards. It took three adults an hour to sort the mess back into proper piles. On this end of the move, in the time it took me to go upstairs to grab my hat and scarf, the kids tore apart an old 3-inch floppy disk they found in an open box and Sawyer came screaming and crying to me with a small metal spring from the disk somehow punctured into his finger. I didn't even know those things had springs. The other day, as I was coming down with the stomach bug and everyone else was recovering, I needed like five minutes of alone time. While the kids were engrossed in a movie, I crept upstairs to my room to lie down on the bed, and things were actually quiet downstairs for about three minutes. All the sudden, Arden, who I had overheard saying something about needing milk, appeared next to me with an entire 3/4-full gallon jug in her hands that she had somehow heaved up a flight of 15 stairs. I got up and headed downstairs to find her a cup and discovered this in the kitchen:



It makes me laugh how people baby-proof for 3-month-olds. It should be called kid-proofing. The apple was in the fridge in the vegetable drawer and the straws were up on the counter (not near the edge mind you), It was the first thing the kid had eaten in two days, so I had to cut him a break. Besides, his preschool teachers would be very proud. This puts potato clocks to shame.