Boing. Boing. Boing.

My 17 month old son, Owen,is discovering things.

Boing. Boing. Boing.

“Yes, sweetie, I’m glad you found that, and that it works, but you can’t just sit and play with it all day.”

Boing. Boing. Boing.

The parenting book says it’s not harmful, just redirect his attention elsewhere, or ignore it.

Boing. Boing. Boing.

It’s not even embarrassing really. Ok, it MIGHT be if he does it at Grandma’s house.

Boing. Boing. Boing.

“Honey, if you keep playing with it like that it’s going to fall off!”

Boing. Boing. Boing.

“You’ll go blind!”

I’m getting desparate.

Boing. Boing. Boing.

“Wouldn’t you rather play with Bob the Builder?”

Boing. Boing. Boing.

Silence, followed by screaming.

It fell off. I knew it!

“Honey! Can you fix the bathroom doorstop again?”

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