Busy Body

It's official.  My youngest is into everything.  Absolutely everything. I think this is the point where I am supposed to realize how hard having three kids is.  And this is when I'm supposed to seriously consider that I have, indeed, had my last child.  

And it is hard.  And tiring. But beyond wonderful.  And the only thing I'm considering these days is whether or not I should put a Christmas tree in the kitchen, knowing that he will tear it apart on a daily basis.  It doesn't hurt that he's beyond adorable and as sweet as sugar.
And, yes, that is a piece of trash bag in his mouth.  I saw it as he smiled for the camera and promptly removed it from his chubby, little cheeks.  My busy boy.  The one who cried all morning and was beyond cranky, which is so abnormal for him.  So I carried him to the doctor and discovered his ears are infected.  My poor little sweetie.  But on a high note, both of his top teeth broke through today.  Hallelujah!  My fingers stayed numb from constantly applying orajel and my child had begun gnawing on the edge of the wooden table in the den. So Will and I made a deal.  If he won't cut any more teeth for a while, he's free to destroy my house, room by room, on a daily basis.