Troublesome Tuesday?

That's Little Monster. His name is spelled T-R-O-U-B-L-E. Not because he's naughty and disobedient. Because he's smart. And curious. And he really likes juice.

This morning I was in the bathroom when I heard the backdoor shut. Immediately after, I heard Little Monster still playing in his room. So I knew he was inside the house and I wasn't terribly worried. He was inside, the door was shut, life was good.

Fast forward a few minutes when I got out of the bathroom and finished an email. I go check on him, and he's sitting in his playroom with a Capri-Sun.

Hmm. Capri Sun is stored in the garage. Unless... Was there one stashed in here? That can't be possible, we'd just cleaned that room a couple of times recently. We would have found it. Then I remembered that Not the Momma had told me we were out of juice boxes and that I should get some more next time I went to the store. Hmm. Even Odder.

"Little Monster, how did you get that juice?"
"BOOS!"

He had a stinky diaper too, so while I was changing his diaper, we continued our discussion about the 'boos.'

"How did you get that juice?"
"baraahhdg"
"Garage?"
"yes!"

That led me to think. That means the door I heard slam was Little Monster RETURNING to the inside of the house. He had gone into the backyard, walked to the garage door and opened it, found his juice, brought it back inside the house and shut the door, removed the straw from the 'boos' and had tried to get into it.

Trouble. That's what we've got around here. Not so much for Little Monster, but more for the grown-ups in this house. Now we have to figure something better out for the doors. Because, folks, my doors are 'baby-proofed' with those annoying handle covers and dead bolted. And he won't open them when anyone is looking. He's sneaky. Trouble. with a capital T.