Anyway. I had a point here, and laying out the family tree wasn't it.
Mister A is such a BOY. Obviously we're all well aware he's a male, but his boyishness is especially obvious when sitting (ha! as if there were any sitting happening) side by side with Miss C. While she contentedly "reads" a book or snuggles in her mama's lap, he sprint-crawls laps around the house, panting and screeching. He dumps the dog bowl, pulls up on anything or anyone that sits still, tries to figure out how to dismantle the high chair, somehow finds a stray outlet cover and eats it, rips Miss C's pink hair bow right off her pretty little head- generally, he behaves as if I'd force fed him chocolate bars and Mountain Dew for breakfast. He's crazy, and I love him for his madness. I love him for the way he just GOES for whatever it is that catches his eye. I love him for his enthusiasm and inquisitiveness. And I love him for his ability to give me a better workout than Jillian ever could, because keeping up with a mischief seeking nearly-nine month old works every muscle in my body, all day, every day. And he's not even WALKING yet. Walking may just be the death of my sanity.
Further proof that he's a boyish rascal? Just before the company arrived, this was the scene in the bathroom:
He was just having way too much fun for me to even consider cutting him off. And it kept him quiet long enough for me to apply mascara. Until he ate toilet paper.