Tracking Bigfoot

By 8 o'clock I usually crash on the couch watching some stupid reality show after eating some rocky road ice cream. I keep asking myself, "Why am I so tired??" I know I'm pregnant and it's supposedly like running a marathon...blah, blah, blah. I know what the real reason is- M.A.X.



I try to explain to people just how mischevious he is, but I can never express it fully. Either that, or I'm just a big whiner and people don't want to listen to me anymore. Either way, I try desperately to document his behavior on film, but it's all in vain. It's like trying to capture Bigfoot on film, no one believes it's real. Of course Max just loves the camera, so whenever he hears the whir of the lens popping out, he drops whatever he's breaking and runs over to breathe heavily into the lens. For instance, here's a video of him. What I was trying to get was him pulling the suitcase out of the closet over to the bed to create a step stool. He wanted to grab whatever random item I had placed on the middle of the bed out of his reach. Now, I realize this is pretty ingenious of him to figure out his own solution, but his inventions always come with some bodily injury risk.



Exhibit B: I had to get ready this morning to go deliver cupcakes, so I set up the gate in the doorway of the bathroom and headed for the shower. In the 10 minutes I was in there (I sped up as I heard various crashes and squeels) he had knocked over a lamp, unfolded all the towels I had just folded, taken the heater vent out of the hole (I don't know what he threw down there), pulled out the drawers of Joey's closet organizer, and somehow changed the time on my alarm. Not to mention earlier this morning he pulled the table runner off the table knocking over the roses Joey gave me, getting water all over the place. I find myself saying to him, "This is why we don't have nice things!"