This weekend, Carter was not himself. He has his two year molars coming in, some cold with an awful cough and is extremely cranky. Seth referred to him once as a firemonster (affectionately, but I still objected).

I spent a lot of time split between affection and discipline as a result. Sunday night he stood up on the couch and I told him twice to sit down. He finally did listen, but a little too exuberantly. He sat down really hard on the arm of the couch, tipping over the edge, and he proceeded to flip a few times midair, his head barely missing the coffee table, and landing face down on the ground. I watched in horror and immediately scooped him up and held him. He was fine, but pretty shaken up. Well, we both were.

After he calmed down a little, he looked up at me with big teary eyes and informed me "need time out." It's almost like he's catching on and realizing I do actually know what I'm talking about.