The story of Thursday
It started with the CDs. Elijah has liked touching them in the racks. I think he liked the sound his fingers made on the plastic. Now he's figured out how to take them out of the racks. I caught him in the kitchen with a Billy Joel CD in his hand. Lucky it was still in the case. Why he picked Billy Joel, I have no idea. Surely Jamiroquai, which was just above Billy Joel but still well in reach, would be more to Bugs' taste.
Then Cissy the Cyclamen was involved. The poor plant was a present for me from my colleagues when I went on maternity leave. It's somewhat appropriate that the reason for that leave is also the reason for its demise. Sure, she and her sister, Psyche, were already pretty sick from being left alone for three weeks in the middle of Summer while we were away, and then probably being overwatered when we got back, but were still alive. Well not anymore. Poor Cissy. She fought a valiant fight, but the Bugalugs won in the end. Here is the trail of destruction, with the very ill Psyche and the thriving Vi the African Violet in the background.
Incidentally, that is two plants that have bitten the dust since December. And don't I have imaginative names for my plants?
After his exploits with flora, Elijah escaped to under the kitchen table and then proceeded to push his high chair around the room. By this time, I was worn out and it still wasn't even lunch time yet.
Then it was time to get into all the drawers he could find and make his rocker chair rock. I tell you, if this child is not walking by 11 months, I'll eat my hat. He stands with one hand on the toy bar of the rocker chair, wrenching it around, without even looking like overbalancing.
At least he isn't this monkeyish every day.