*I just found this in a file marked "blog", probably about a year old. Amazing how things change. Or don't.*
Roanen has been getting into EVERYTHING - climbing on the island, pulling stuff out of the cupboards, screaming ear-splittingly when something doesn't go his way or right into Tristan's face when he gets mad at him, drawing in pen on the wood kitchen table, cutting pages out of my books, throwing anything he can get his hands on at the baby, taking stuff out of the freezer, eating sand (not dirt, because that would be gross you know), throwing handfuls of ashes out of the burning bin and wiping his ashy hands all over himself, lying on top of Tristan, pulling Josey's ears, attempting to call China and/or 9-1-1, pulling all the wipes out of the wipe holder and scattering them around the house, standing up to pee in the tub just seconds after he gets off the potty insisting "It's not working!", stopping the washer mid-cycle without my knowledge (because although the controls lock, evidently "stop" isn't considered a control), standing on the top of the chest freezer, hammering dents into the wood coffee table, kicking the cat, helping himself to overflowing glasses of water in the bathroom, poking the snake with a toilet paper roll, unpotting house plants, taking all the cushions of the couch and pulling stuffing out of them, climbing up on the island and swinging the pots and pans so they clank around, and refusing, REFUSING, to have anything to do with the potty, underwear, or being without a diaper, tossing my engagement ring down the cold air return. Fortunately he makes up for it by doing things like announcing "That where Nonno lives" when we drive by any cemetery, asking "Why you mad at me?" very earnestly when he gets yelled at, gently grabbing our ears for a second as a part of his bedtime routine, open mouth kissing, giving Tristan toys to play with, eating all but the tiniest shred of core when he eats apples and pears, asking for "chicken on a bone" and eating until the drumstick is completely clean, letting Josey lead him around by the hand on "adventures" through the yard, running downstairs in the morning yelling "Mommeeeee! I had a GOOD SLEEP!" whether he was up 5 times or not at all, needing to be kissed in whatever exact spot he hurts ("No, ON my tongue!"), playing well on his own for long stretches of time, making me laugh every single time I walk into a room and hear "No, I'M in here!" because he wants to be alone while pooping.
In new news, Roanen has puked twice today. After the second time he (against my wishes) shovelled in toast and eggs, then asked for pie. When I refused to give it to him on the basis that he would probably just throw it up, he insisted that he needed it so that his throw up could be a new colour this time.