Okay I get it. Boys are different than girls. My sweet little girls would just sit in the middle of all their toys and play by themselves while I did whatever I had to get done. But then Easton came along and I don't know how many times a day I lift him off of the table and pull him off the stairs and get him unstuck of whatever he happens to be stuck in at the time. I haven't vacuumed my upstairs for months in fear that I won't be able to hear his crys for help when he falls from something. But look at that smile. How could you get mad at that?
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