Boy Terror has discovered sitting. It's his new favourite activity. He is constantly looking for places to park his butt. He tries to sit on the couch, but he's just too short. He backs up, clutching a book, until he runs into the couch. Then, he sits. It works for everyone else, but he just ends up on the floor, which does not make him very happy. Sitting on the floor is not what he has in mind. He tries to sit gracefully on the edge of the toy bin, but he's not graceful, and the toy bin is not cooperative. Every time, he ends up plopping in, with his limbs all sticking up in the air like fat little pink sausages. You'd think after we pull him out the first 37 times he'd learn, but no. He'll keep on trying until we move the toy bin.
Yesterday I decided to try my Pilates DVD again, since my own butt is not responding to the "sit on your ass and eat crackers" weight loss program. As soon as I was lying on the floor, focusing my breathing, and preparing to do crunches, Boy Terror came waddling over. He grabbed his "Mama Do You Love Me" book and backed up. Just as I was beginning crunch #4, he squatted and lowered his butt on my belly. Ooof. I shoved him off, and he said "Weeee!" like I am just a giant slide. Then he proceeded to try and sit on my face (and tell me that you love me), my feet, my arms, and his favourite, my belly. "Weeee!" Okay. Enough calming exercise for one day.
When I saw him back up and try to sit on the poor cat, I realized we need to get this boy a chair. And soon. That, or put a warning sound on his butt, like big trucks have. "Meep, meep, meep!! Coming back!"