I know it's developmentally appropriate for a two-year-old to enjoy pouring things and sorting things, but frankly, I'm over it. Wherever he goes, Nathan is pouring. Pouring water from sink to sink. Pouring powdered sports drink mix into his cheerios and then back into the drink mix container. Pouring chocolate chips into the popcorn (which is actually inspiring, yet highly inappropriate for a 7:30 a.m. breakfast). Pouring water over the side of the bathtub.
My mother was here last week and she let him do the dishes in the sink as I slept on the couch. Or should I say, I was totally and completely passed out on the couch from sheer exhaustion. Apparently he poured water from one sink to the other for an hour and twenty minutes. I'm not sure but I think that is equivalent to about a million years in the world of two-year-olds. He was delirious. That's the great thing about grandmothers: they don't mind cleaning up the huge puddles on the floor or changing the outfit three times because the boy was just too wet for his own comfort.
Marmie is gone now and I have resorted to removing all the chairs from the first floor of my house. No chair in front of the computer. No stools in the kitchen. No chairs around the dining room table. It sounds extreme, right? I'll put it in perspective for you. Today I found Nathan trying to reach the counter. He had found a box of pasta and was using it to get just a little bit more height. Now my removal of the chairs doesn't seem so ridiculous, right? He was desperate to get to the sink but I had just spent an hour cleaning the kitchen. I decided to give in and take the kids outside.
One hour, two shovels and a pile of dirt. It wasn't the same as pouring water onto the floor but it will have to do. I think he was happy.