The night Baby Bro gave up crawling, you could see something in him just clicked. He stood up, walked all around the kitchen and then to the hallways and back, smiling and cooing while Drew and I watched in disbelief. It happened so suddenly, and there was no looking back. As soon as the moment of pride and joy had passed, my mind darted to every sharp corner, every breakable decoration within a toddler's reach, and of course- doorknobs. One of the most terrifying scenes in the famous film happens when the velociraptor learns how to open doors, the handle slowly turns as the children crouch behind a counter cowering with fear. It's a game-changing skill, doorknobs. It means I have to remember the top latch on the front and garage doors every single day. The front door has been a habit since Big Bro learned this skill, but the garage door- let's just say it's a good thing the handle tends to stick.
In addition to their risk of escape, velociraptors and toddlers can move very quickly in short bursts. For example, if Baby Bro gets hold of a piece of trash at the park and senses my intention to take it from him, he's already 20 feet away and shoving it in his mouth while laughing as if to say "catch me mom!" I look at him and think, "where was this coordination when I was trying to change your diaper this morning?"
Toddlers and velociraptors are also pack animals. They're at their most destructive when they have help. This is where Big Bro comes in. If I so much as put a load of laundry into the washing machine while they're in the playroom together I can guarantee I'm walking back into tornado alley. At the moment my house is rigged with traps of legos, blocks and hot wheels cars. Just minutes ago I tripped over a pile of childrens' musical instruments while trying to put Baby Bro to sleep. Needless to say, it took a little longer than usual.
Lastly, the velociraptor battle cry. It's a known fact that until preschool, toddlers are equipped with the same set of vocal chords as the prehistoric carnivore, projecting a high-pitched screeching noise that can penetrate the thickest walls and the quietest churches.
But while he may be loud, destructive, quick and sneaky, he's also sweet and snuggly and far more adorable than any dinosaur. He does bite, but we're working on that.
