A two year old is like that in a lot of ways. Except that instead of turning a white plastic gear, you give him gummy bears. Oh and instead of a two inch flipping monkey, you end up with a laughing, crying, kicking, squealing manic who knows the word NO only in the sense that he expects you to listen to him when he says it, but looks at you like you're quoting Othelo when you say it.
This past weekend somebody wound our monkey up and sent him crashing through a screen door at his Uncle Broccoli's engagement party. While nothing was hurt and nobody left the scene bleeding, in the midst of the sideways glances and looks of horror from those who were dressed as if future President Obama himself were about to make an appearance, I couldn't help but laugh at my like boy as he dusted himself off and shrugged his shoulders as if to say "Ok, now that I've broken something let the real party begin!!"