Baby J is not so much a baby anymore. He's a crazy wild running machine who is infatuated with all things wheels and steering wheels. Throw a ball in there and he's a happy camper. Given this description I'm not so sure I need to mention this, but I'll throw it out there: Left alone to his own devices, he will cause trouble. He will fall off the Gator, climb into Opa's truck to commandeer the steering wheel, take over the lawn tractor. Not that he's done any of this, I'm just saying.
So. Drastic times call for drastic measures. Here's what we do.
A. Put him down for a nap. For some reason, now that we live in a trailer and need to clear out the trailer of live, loud children when one naps, or maybe to make up for the first 8 months of his life when he did NOT sleep, J has decided that 2 naps a day is sufficient. Really. But, it's nice for the days when it's sunny and 70s. I'll be thankful for these days.
B. Take him along. This really only works when one is driving ... something.
When not riding a motorized vehicle, he hangs on in a backpack. Which actually works great, but we've used it so much that one of the buckles keeps slipping. It may or may not have to do with him being a 2 year old's weight in a 1 year old's body.
The girls are not nearly as narrow-minded. They're in for anything as long as it involves accessories, driving the Gator, riding the horse, or training a calf.