Prison break.

I know it is hard for you to imagine that someone with this face might ever be a challenge to parent.

Unfortunately his range of hobbies currently includes things like turning the dishwasher on and off, pulling DVDs and Blurays out of their cases, opening and closing the dishwasher while I try to load/unload it, unraveling the toilet paper, trying to put plugs into outlets, playing with the printer, and opening and closing the slider and screen doors.

It's not that he's naughty. He isn't. He knows how to be obedient, and he is definitely not trying to subvert the rules when he spends his naptime pulling dozens of wipes from their container. He just loves thinking about how things work. He's always been a tiny engineer: figuring out how to open jars and containers long before Gracie cared to, stacking ketchup and mustard bottles at restaurants by sixteen months, and experimenting with his bedroom dresser drawers (open closed open closed) by the time he could army crawl at 6 months. It's just who he is: curious, adventurous, a critical thinker.

He's also got pretty strong opinions about most things. Recently we've been working hard on getting him to eat non-fruit/non-carb foods. Like carrots. Or chicken. Nothing crazy. Some days he will take a bite of corn with just an offhanded suggestion from Mommy. Most days we ask him to, say, take a bite of his ham before he gets some yogurt, and he pitches a fit so loud that we send him to his room to cool down. He may have to take another trip to his room if we ask him to eat the ham again. Then, tearful and exhausted, he makes his way downstairs and tells us he is done yelling and ready to eat. He would like some yogurt. So, again, we suggest the ham. He whimpers and cries and eyes the ham suspiciously. He glances at the yogurt. Then, tentatively, he takes a bite of the ham. We all cheer, including him. We make a big deal out of it. We offer him the yogurt. He is suddenly uninterested in it, and finishes the ham.

*sigh*

Another thing he's passionate about, is not staying in his bed at bedtime or nap time. Which... I mean I am passionate about him staying in at those times, so we've been in quite the battle of wills. It's been at least a week so far. And most days Steve or I (and baby-bump) spend several hours either nap or bedtime camped out in the hallway to send him back to bed over and over.

The night this belly shot was taken was a two-hour battle, during which Charlie alternated getting out of bed, crying because he was put back in bed, and monologuing things like this:

"Can't catch me, Mom. Mommy? (singing) A popcorn popping an apricot tree! IIIII! IIIIII! Me now now. (end song) Hey, Dad? (Sneaks to the door. Mommy says: BED. He scurries back over.) Mommy! Mommy! Hey, Daddy! (whimpering) Mommmmmyyyyyyyyyyyyyy! Mommmmmyyyyyyyyyyyyyy! Daddyyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy! (Repeats for a few minutes until the sobs wear off.)

Mommy? I think it's ten o'clock. Ge bo ge bo ge bo bayyy! Nah mo nay mo nee meh no mah. I just going fixing monkey. I just going fixing monkey! Fixing monkey! Fixing monkey! Bap bap boo bop bop. Oh beddy bap bip (and more nonsense words.) Hi dog. Hi apples. Yes siree! (Sings nonsense words.) Yes siree! Yes siree! (Repeats about five more times.) (Quiet. Bed rustles.) (GASP!) Daddy's home!!! (He isn't.) (More quiet.) You know. It is NIGHT time!"

To say we are tired would be an understatement. :)

So finally we decided that--for nap time only--he could play, as long as he stayed in his room. So we flipped the doorknob around so the lock was on the outside. Only the tricky-to-open side of the knob would be accessible from his room. Like so:

Yesterday it worked okay. Today, after several attempts to body-slam his way through the door, Steve heard a cry that unnerved him enough that he went in to check on the boy-o. Charlie was holding his little bank, wailing inconsolably. 

At first Steve thought he had dropped something into it and gotten it stuck, but when he popped the seal open there was nothing inside but a dollar and a handful of coins. Charlie picked out a penny and suddenly felt much better. Steve put him back in bed and locked the door.

About ten minutes later, we heard a door upstairs open and close. And open and close. And open and close.

"Is his door unlocked?" I asked Steve.

"No."

The door opened and closed again. I knew Gracie's door was unlocked, but she's learned the perils of coming out of her room before quiet time is over.

Confused, I walked up the stairs--and there was Charlie, peering out from behind his door. Thinking Steve had just forgotten, I put him back in bed and locked the door. Then, just to see, I stood in the hallway and watched the doorknob for about thirty seconds as the lock slowly twisted and the door popped open.

Charlie smiled at me, penny in hand. Mr. Lincoln had promised him LIBERTY, and liberty had been delivered.

So. My two-year-old had unlocked his bedroom door using a penny. Certainly that had to be a fluke. I walked in with him, locked the door behind me, and shut us in together.

"I want to go out," I told him. "Can you help me?"

"Yes!" he enthused, sticking the penny in the doorknob's slot and turning. "I'm helping you!" Pure glee.

I thanked him and decided that it was okay that he played with the doorknob (after all, he is my engineer) as long as he stayed in his room.

Which he didn't.

So I put him (wailing) back in bed and, much to his dismay, confiscated the penny. To say he was furious/heartbroken would not be an overstatement. Then I locked the door and left.

Imagine my surprise when, less than ten minutes later, Gracie called down the stairs that Charlie was out of his room again.

...?

I tromped my pregnant self back up the stairs (interrupted for the umpteenth time from trying to pay bills--not my fav to begin with) and found Charlie standing in the doorway with his plastic screwdriver in hand. Steve keeps a real one upstairs to lock or unlock doors the kids have locked or shouldn't unlock (like the bathroom, where Charlie also enjoys turning the lights on and off over and over while standing on a stool). Turns out plastic ones work just as well. 

Needless to say, Steve spent the next hour or so hanging out in the hallway putting our son back to bed again and again.

Looks like we're in this one for the long haul. Good thing he's cute.

And I have to admit, as frustrating as these long nap times are, we have to give him some credit for sheer ingenuity. Right???