A busy, busy boy

Before the pitter-patter of little feet comes the steady slap-slap-slap of wee hands on a mission. When the slap-slap-slap stops, I have about two minutes before one of two things happens: Dan shrieks from beneath a piece of furniture or because the wall won't move out of his way or he remains very quiet. Either way, I'm on my feet before he does any more damage to himself or whatever he's gotten into.

Dan's a very busy boy these days which means I'm a very busy mommy. The day typically starts with a plaintive cry from his crib followed by the only diaper change of the day that does not resemble a rodeo. Once fully awake, he tries to throw me off like a bull throws a cowboy. Next, it's downstairs where Dan performs his first feat of the day ... the dump and dart. He dumps out the toys, plays for about 10 seconds then heads for the nearest staircase before I've had a chance to put up the gates.

Now it's time for breakfast. He gets bored after a few bites of cinnamon oatmeal with ground raisins and applesauce and plays hide and seek with the Cheerios or goldfish crackers in his high chair. Other fun games he plays throughout the day include:

• Toy box boomerang: He dives head first into a large metal bowl full of his "kitchen toys," tipping it so the rim hits his forehead. He repeats this twice before I replace his toy bowl with a basket, which he again dives into. At least, the basket is little more hospitable.
• Box pushing: A few boxes from recent purchases serve as mobility aids. A few months ago, I wanted to buy a piece of molded plastic with wheels to help him walk. Turns out, an old cardboard box works just as well and is probably much safer. He does well with it, but is still learning about immovable objects like the wall.
• Bumper brains: He crawls underneath the furniture, usually the sideboard or a dining room chair. Trapped, he screams. He must be wondering why the ceiling suddenly got lower. He got himself in, why can't he get himself out?

And, of course, he helps himself to the all-day, all-you-can-eat kitchen floor buffet. Typical offerings included a raw oat with a string from a banana, a tuft of dog hair stuck to some cheese and three-day old Cheerios. I'm not sure how he finds these little morsels since the floor is swept at least once a day, sometimes more.

By day's end, I feel like I've had a workout - bending, lifting, chasing. It's too bad that any calories burned are offset by my daily reward of a bowl of ice cream once boy wonder goes to bed. Chocolate, of course. And, no, I don't feel guilty about it.