My Little Monkey

I know he resembles an animal although I haven’t concluded just which one yet. Between the hole he gnawed in the shoulder strap of my purse and holes he put in the rubber handle of a pair of tongs I let him play with, I’m leaning toward beaver or rabbit. But putting those 6 tiny teeth to hard work isn’t all he’s guilty of – he has an uncanny ability to snuggle into some tight spots. Perhaps the closest resemblance is the MONKEY. I have put in my request to Carl for a small jungle gym for my living room in hopes of refocusing Connor’s energy away from climbing in my cupboards, pulling at the patio blinds, shaking the floor lamp, scaling the empty bookcase in the hall, crawling into the cubby in the desk, scrambling into the basket of his stroller and getting stuck, slithering under the desk to pull cords (usually unplugging the speakers), using up a month’s worth of electricity in a 2 minute stint of turning the t.v. on and off as well as constantly adjusting the volume for all the neighbors to hear (curse the buttons on the front of the t.v.!), and devilishly pushing boxes and toys up to the couch so he have a cushiony place to continue his acrobatics.