It could just be that I am getting older (very possible), but it seems to me as if Max is very, VERY um, spirited. Lively. Busy. (naughty!) OMG, he is busy. He RUNS, everywhere. He climbs, EVERYWHERE. He dives off cupboards, he climbs up couches. It is exhausting!
Already in his short 18 month life, he has broken more things than the twins broke. He smashed our new vase, he broke an ornament. Last week I had three lovely photos blown up and put on canvas. It was a very expensive exercise. In the three seconds I turned my back, Max took a pen and drew all over one of the portraits. I have to redo the portrait. I had forgotten what 18 months is like.
And he is tough! He is a tough cookie. He takes absolutely no shit from his siblings. I suppose he has to be tough in order to survive those two. He is a tough, busy, energetic little boy, and I absolutely adore him. It is actually such a cute age. Just not for the faint-hearted. Or the aged.