Clicking through some of the pictures on the Library of Congress Flickr page I came across this picture.  Click on the picture to follow the link to the Flickr page because the notes are hilarious.

I’m getting dressed, watching the little one crawl slowly toward the new baby gate at the top of the stairs, when I hear the front door creak quietly open.  Cheeks stops moving, looks in the direction of the sound and then at me.  A few seconds later he grins apprehensively as his Dad appears at the top of the stairs with a big, blue box in his hands.

Later that evening, the three of us are in the kitchen, Cheeks bangs wildly on his new drum, sticks flying dangerously close to his head.  Cody and I play the tambourine and maracas, trying to keep time with the crazy drummer.  Cheeks looks up at us, thrusts his drumsticks into the air above his head and wails.  The drumming continues.  Cody looks at me as if to say, “We’re in trouble.”

It’s 7:30am and we’ve had a rough morning.  Cheeks has a large bruise on his right eyebrow from an earlier accident.  We’re watching videos on YouTube while he unravels plays with a ball of yarn and I drink my third cup of coffee.  Soon, I have to use the restroom.

I pick Cheeks up, carry him into the bedroom, plop him down in front of the bathroom door and hand him an alarm clock to play with.

“See, there’s a button on the top that makes it light up.  Stay put.”

I leave the door open.  I’ve almost forgotten that there even is a door.  I look down to fumble with a drawstring and the door slams shut behind me.

“Honey?  Did you shut me in the bathroom?  Are you out there?”

“Diddy abookabooka YYYEEEEEAAAA!”

“Alright, well, just sit there for a minute.”

A few seconds later I slowly turn the doorknob and start to open the door.  It opens six inches and bumps into something.  I try to peak around the corner, but see only the rug and two little feet before the door presses back toward me.

“Smelly, you’re going to have to move back from the door so that I can get out.”

I wait.  I hear shuffling and the familiar twang of the door stop disturbed by little fingers.  I try the door again and squeeze through the crack.  Cheeks looks up from playing with the door stop, a big, purple shadow above his eye and a three-toothed grin plastered to his face.

“Haiabookabooka ha diddy dada.”