Boys are non-stop. Or so people like to say.
Yet, Silas isn't as non-stop as he is on-going. Quietly on-going at that.
Although he makes his needs known, bleating in low-level alarm incessantly if his hands get stuck in the video player or the toy he's playing with rolls under the couch.
He's taking more and more steps; now choosing to walk places slowly when only last week he would have dropped to his knees and, head down, gone barrelling forward to his intended destination.
He's found the joys of riding toys; or more specifically he's found the joys of sitting on toys and waiting for a push.
He's found the chink in his sister's armor. The place where she will not good-naturedly let him take over. In internet gaming site starfall. When she's online choosing storylines and painting faces green she wants nothing to do with him and his meddling ways.
MOM!! He's pulling on the computer screen.
MOM!! Pick him up.
MOM!! Will you take him away?
Maybe he needs a time out.
So I pick him up and take him into the kitchen. He pulls on my pantlegs and roots through the drawer of plastic containers. He rearranges the cabinet that contains soups and dry goods. He takes magnets off the refrigerator and spirits them away under the kitchen table. He eats leftover cereal bits the dog missed from breakfast.
He is content.