The Force of Nature

I have come to the conclusion that Cubby, like most toddlers I'm sure, is simply a force of nature. Something like a cyclone or a hurricane--ferocious, unstoppable, and exhausting. He just . . . never stops. He's climbing chairs, climbing tables, climbing stairs. And then falling off of tables and chairs. Not, thankfully, falling down stairs. Yet.

He runs and he crawls and he climbs and he pounds on things. He talks non-stop (not always understandably, but more so all the time) and chases the cat, the dogs, and the rooster. That last one is discouraged, since the rooster has serious spurs that he has yet to use on a person and I don't think he needs to try them out on Cubby. But Cubby chases him anyway. Because Cubby is a force of nature and cannot be tamed.

So when The Force woke up early this morning coughing and snuffling and generally evidencing all signs of a cold, I was unhappy about the prospect of multiple days of snot, but maybe, kind of, sort of not too unhappy about the prospect of a somewhat more subdued Cubby.

HAAAAAA.

For about half an hour after he woke up he was whining and crying and refusing to be put down NO NOT FOR A SECOND, MOM, I AM SICK AND PATHETIC AND YOU WILL COMFORT ME.

And then he was done with the pathetic and back to the pinballing off the walls and defying gravity at every turn. So I guess not even a cold can get Cubby down.

His mother, however, might be another story.