Little Monkeys

Sorry I haven't written in a few days, it has been pretty hectic around here.  Between a tantrum-throwing toddler wanting Momma to carry him everywhere, a whiny 6 year-old who refused to listen to anything I said, and a fiance who chose to stay out of the house as much as possible to avoid it all, I haven't gotten a few minutes of peace to sit and compose a coherent thought (let alone try to write about it.)


But now the step-daughter is back at her mom's house, the little guy is sleeping in (and so is his daddy) and here I am!  I've got my Dr. Pepper sitting beside me, my feet kicked up in the chair in front of me, and the laptop in my lap.  Too bad I can't think of anything I want to say haha!

Honestly though, why do kids make their solo mission in life to see how close they can come to giving their mommas heart attacks on a daily basis??  This is my little guy's newest favorite place to be:

And how the heck did he get in there?? Like this:

I think I gave birth to a monkey, I swear.  Panic attack-inducing little adrenaline-junkie likes when his Momma does the gasp and jump, flying over the baby gate to save him.  He had his little head poked out of the shelf, laughing so hard when I tripped trying to get to him.  I got him down, and then he just climbed right back up.  

Anyone have any advice on how to stop the climbing?  Or is it just something that I'm gonna have to deal with, imagining him splatting on the floor every time he shimmies his way up the entertainment center??