Matt had a great idea the other night. Let's take a walk up to the Dairy Queen (probably about a mile or so) and have an after dinner treat. It was a warm evening, so it actually sounded like a great idea. We grabbed Mister and the stroller and headed out for our evening walk. The walk up was not enjoyable and I spent a considerable amount complaining as the entire walk is up hill.
Matt got a Peanut Buster Blizzard, I got a Strawberry Lemonade Chiller and Mister got a baby cone. He was adorable eating it. His first reaction was one of great disgust and confusion about this cold stuff, but once he got a taste of it, he couldn't get enough. And of course, he was nice enough to share.
Adorable right? I know. However, the night took a terrible turn when we got home. It was about 8:15 and it was time for Mister to go to bed. We followed the typical routine, washing the face and hands, tiny teeth brushing, a story and a sippy cup of water. Things were looking up - - until we got to the crib. Somewhere between story time and hitting the sheets, the ice cream was in full effect. He was running laps around his crib and grabbing the crib rail and jumping up and down. He even ended up launching himself across the crib because he bounced so hard! I sat in the rocking chair, waiting for the sugar rush to wear off, only to have him play peek-a-boo with me between the crib rails and then he'd throw his pacifief or stuffed animals at me when I wouldn't respond! It was so hard not to laugh at him! I tried leaving the room a couple of times which just created an uproar and filled the house with tiny screams! As soon as I'd come back into the room...all giggles and smiles. Bascially, his oh so sweet face from the picture above, was slowly turning into:
I hope the red demon eyes are showing up here....
FINALLY, at 10:00, he crashed. And he must have crashed hard because he wasn't up until nearly 7:30 the next morning. Now, why can't he do that on the weekends?
