Raising Davis is like a flashback. He tries to play in toilets, pulls out pots and pans, sits on the dishwasher, and raids the food pantry. He is a child safety lock company's dream. He's pretty much a living tornado, leaving a path of destruction and chaos behind him. It's like I'm living a parallel life to the one I lived five years ago. The one where Jackson emptied drawers, dumped out toys and raided cupboards. This life is from 5 years ago because my number two child never did these kinds of things. Never opened a single cupboard, didn't even attempt to crawl downstairs without assistance, and most assuredly did not find anything of interest in the toilet.

I thought the worst was behind me. But I should have known. I should have known that in a family of boys, adventurous, curious, havoc wreaking children is the norm, not the exception.

As I wheeled the boys in a grocery cart to my car last week, a man in the parking lot stopped me and said "Oh I remember those days! I see a lot of drywall patching in your future!" Is this what I'm in for? I thought for sure nothing could be worse than little fingers in the toilet, but I didn't even consider the havoc reaching "hole in the wall" potential.

So I guess for now I will stop complaining about the bajillions of crumbs on the floor, the collection of tupperware pulled from their drawer, and the books pulled from their shelf, because, at least for now, my walls are hole free.