Don't let that sweet little face fool you. You're looking at the face of a baby who just spent the past 90 minutes terrorizing greater north Austin. You see, we've got an offer on the house. (Yay!) An offer whose particularities have been dragging out for the past five irritatingly slow paced and uninformative days. (Not yay.) But since this offer could become a sold sign in our yard in the very near future, we figure we better get serious about finding a new abode.
Foolishly, I headed out solo with Mister A today. In the past, all such endeavors have included two parents- one to sit in the back seat shaking toys and serving puffs to His Highness, one to drive (and feel smugly relieved to have drawn the long straw and not be shaking toys). But the clock's tick-tocking and homelessness sounds wholly unappealing, so my impatience got the better of me. Plus, I thought it might be kind of fun, and packed the stroller in hopes of getting out and doing some exploring on foot. He did great until downtown. (No props due- downtown is all of 10 minutes from our house.) The other 20 minutes to our destination featured some variation of screaming, pitiful whimpering, and a swift dismissal of any toy placed into his grip. So did the 20 minutes I spent checking out the neighborhood in question, windows down in hopes of distraction, wails disrupting an otherwise very peaceful seeming suburban late morning. Screaming the first 10 minutes of our trip back to the southside. Then I started singing. If you know me, you know this is never a good idea. But for A, today, it worked. He quieted, then fell asleep. (Or played dead to stop the singing, more likely.)
Forget it. I'm not moving. This is all way too much work and with every day this offer sits on the table, it's looking less and less appealing. As unappealing as a July move, packing with a two foot tall maniac cruising about, and leaving our good friends here. ::insert big sigh here:: What to do?
And in the nine minutes I spent writing this post, he's shunned the Tupperware and spoons I set out for his amusement and instead opted to tear apart a magazine, dump the pets' water bowl, trap himself beneath the dining table, and take a bite out of a candle.
I see a big glass of wine in my evening plans. After Jillian shreds me. Obviously.