Rylann is 10 months now. She’s a crawling, scooting, babbling, little monkey who can sure make her way around the house. Cupboards, drawers, and baskets are treasure chests to her, and I am now wishing I didn’t have “pack-rat” tendencies.

After carefully inspecting it, then throwing it aside, it’s on to the next treasure, and before you know it every room in the house looks like a burglar ransacked the place. It keeps her busy. Who needs toys when you have all of mama’s “treasures” to find.

And there is no point in putting everything away throughout the day, because as soon as she catches a glimpse of me picking up, she’s either insulted or even more intrigued, and makes a dash straight back to what I just cleaned up, and happily puts things back the way she left them.

[Exhibit A and Exhibit B]

My new tactic…wait until she’s having her bedtime bottle in her bouncer seat, and run around room to room restoring the balance, so I can at least wake up to a tidy house. Win win for now I guess. At least until I get those safety latches installed, or I spontaneously become like those people I kind of envy with the “museum” houses.