Babies are a lot like puppies. Dean is entering into the stage (I think it's a good 15 years) of endless energy and noise. He is all over the place, into everything, grabbing everything he can get his hands on, flailing all appendages in 4 different directions, chasing the dogs all over the house, all while babbling or screaming at the top of his lungs. He follows me from room to room as I do various household chores. His favorite is sweeping. Like a puppy, he loves to chase the broom around the room and thinks the pile at the end is a treasure chest of goodies for him to eat. You would think that I would just do the sweeping when he is sleeping, but that would be far too logical and way less fun. Granted, my floor doesn't ever get all that clean when we play the game of sweeping, but it does poop both Dean and I out. It's been too hot to run with a baby jogger, so I'm improvising.
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