Zone of TERROR

Mason has what we like to call a "zone of terror". It's pretty much his wingspan (the zone) and the terror comes in when he starts swinging his arms around trying to grasp anything he can. So that he can put it in his mouth.

And destroy it.

So far, cell phones, computer mice, candles, lamps, toys, books, paper, blankets, cups and pens have succumb to his zone of terror.

There has to be some kind of explanation for the zone of terror. Here's mine: His teeeeef. They hurrrrrrt. WAHHHHHH I am going to make your life miserable WAHHHHH and eh eh EHEH EHEHEHEHE all.the.time. can't you hear me fake coughing? Don't you know how missssserabllllle the baaaayyyyybeeee isssss?

So now you can begin to understand why I haven't blogged in almost a week. I am exhausted. He sleeps fine at night, still going 11 straight hours. It's just the daytime that has become my own personal hell.

I am going to go shower now. While the monster child is sleeping.