The first word out of Dan's mouth when he comes home each evening is "Woah." That would be a good thing if he was saying it because I looked foxy and had dinner ready on a beautifully set table. But that's not usually (okay, ever) the case, so it's not a good thing. Dan exclaims "Woah!" because generally by the time he comes home, the entire house is in disarray, Maggie is sitting in the middle of all the contents of the kitchen cabinets which are now on the floor, and I'm trying to get dinner on the table before it burns.
Maggie is a little ball of energy. She never bothered the Christmas tree...but that's the only thing she has left alone in her entire life. Every day consists of her pulling videos (yes, my friends we still use VHS) off the shelf while I say "No! No! No!" Then she helps me put them back. Then she pulls our church books off the shelf while I yell "No Maggie! Don't!" Then she helps me put them back. Then she opens all of the drawers in the kitchen (she can reach ALL of them now) and I tell her "No!" again.
Five minutes later the entire process repeats again. At which point I am exhausted by the clean up process and sometimes skip it. Then I think, "Hmm, maybe a change of scenery." I take the child downstairs to her playhouse and various other large and in my opinion very appealing play things and she bypasses all of it and heads for the pens on Dan's desk and his bookshelves full of text books.
Now, I love her. I really do. But I need someone to tell me the cold hard truth:
a) is she insane?
b) am I doing something wrong? what have I done? did I create this [very adorable] beast?
Lay it on me folks. I'll be brave and I think I can take it.