Where the wild things live

She is fearless. I, however, am not. This past weekend, Sophia's wild side made its grand debut and it looks like it's going to stay. On top of the near drowning on Saturday, she did a cartwheel off the couch Sunday night.

Should she even be able to do a cartwheel yet? Summersault, yes, she can do that. I even expected her to be able to do that, but a cartwheel?

Off the couch?

I don't think so.

She is strong-willed, opinionated and completely unstoppable. On Friday, I asked her to stop running and walk. She made it about 5 steps before she started running again. Honestly, I'm not even sure she can walk. I mean, she must be able to walk, but she doesn't.

I'm always chasing her, trying to get her to eat, change her diaper, get her dressed. Even getting her in the bathtub is a chase through the hallway. Turn your head and swoosh, she's gone. My house is a cage, not nearly big enough to contain her boundless energy.

I can't stop it, nor do I want to stop it, but I'd like to tone it down a bit. This morning she tried to sit on top of Ryan while he was crawling.

Ah, my beautiful little baby Ryan. Have I mentioned that he's a mountain climber in training? No? Well, he is. He's already an experienced stair climber with the ability to climb up and over almost any obstacle that stands in his way. In a moment that shined a light on my inexperience, I left Sophia and Ryan alone, together in my bedroom for two minutes. When I came back, I found Ryan sitting on my bed. From the floor, he climbed onto the chest at the foot of my bed and then managed to pull himself up onto my bed.

You wanna know Where The Wild Things Are? There's two and they live in my house. My bets are on a trip to the emergency room before the end of this summer … for me when I have a heart attack.