The Doodlenator

What do you get when you cross a monkey with a caveman and add in a dash of drunken zombie?

Apparently you get my son – the Doodlenator.

My sweet, huggie, kissy boy has jumped both feet into his terrible twos – head first and six months early.

I really do feel for him. I can tell by looking in his eyes that he has so much to say, but the words he needs just aren’t here yet. He has about 20 words that only his parents and caregivers can understand. He has about a dozen signs that he’ll use if prompted.

His sleep patterns are disrupted. I know it’s all just bubbling in between his ears. Sooner than later it’ll pop and he’ll never shut up.

In the meantime, we’ll continue to field the thrown bowls of mac and cheese, peel him off the top of the couch before he stage dives over the bar, and thrust our hands between his head and the wall/crib railing/changing table/oh hell, any semi solid surface.

Because when you get looks like this, you just melt.

And yes, that is a dragon tatoo on his right arm. My son IS a badass.