Beautiful Disaster, or something like that.

Isaac.  Isaac, Isaac, Isaac. 

Yesterday, he dumped half a gallon of hand soap on the hall rug and in the laundry closet.

Today, there was this

and THEN he decided he's FAR too mature, at the ripe old age of 22 months, to use the hand rail when he comes down the stairs.   Have I mentioned that the stairs are really steep?  Because HE CAN.  That's why.  It's a heart-attack-a-minute around here.

Just now, I heard him dump the basket of cookie cutters on the kitchen floor.  ALWAYS BUSY.

Cute is not really cutting it right now.

Okay, while I've been typing, Isaac unrolled a roll of toilet paper and took the cap off the toothpaste.  I found him when I ran upstairs because one of his new favorite pastimes is reprogramming Brian's alarm clock.  So that it goes off during naptime.  And not when Brian needs to wake up.  Lord, help me.