Reason # 101 (or whatever, I've seriously lost count) of why I shouldn't leave my three boys unattended on the first floor. Who needs to fold laundry anyway - we can just get our clothes out of the dryer, right? And who needs to go to the bathroom - that's overrated. Mommy is apparently supposed to be present at all times, or chaos will ensue. Look closely, and you will see it in the photo above.
It seems Sawyer got tired of lining up his usual toys - cars, Little People, rings, blocks, puzzle pieces, etc. - because today he found something else to line up. I came downstairs to find my sneaky little man organizing and lining up ice cubes. That's right, cubes of frozen water (that melt). He had taken them from our bottom drawer freezer, which has become a source of fascination to him recently, you know, since the light comes on every time you open it and goes off every time you close it. That's apparently as fun as the oven door, which does the same thing and has long been a favorite of his.
So, he'd pulled out all of these ice cubes and proceeded to line them up on the edge of the cabinet near the stove top. There were at least 30 on the cabinet, several more in the sink and on the floor. They'd been there a while too, since they were melting and water was everywhere - running down the cabinets, all over the floor and all over his clothes, too. At least that folded laundry came in handy, as I had a clean towel that I had intended to put away and simply used it to wipe up the water.
What's even better is that he clearly knows better. When he saw me coming down the stairs, he quickly tried to start throwing the ones on the floor back into the ice bin in the freezer (which had been open the entire time, apparently). So, who wants an ice cold glass of something tasty from our house? I, of course, had to empty the entire ice bin into the sink. Who knew where that ice had been or how much dog hair was now mixed in with it.
Have I mentioned sneakiness is a trait all three of my boys have somehow managed to develop? Good times . . .