No, I'm kidding, I do feel bad for the poor little booger. When you're thirteen months old, NyQuil isn't an option and all you know is that you feel like crap and Mommy can't fix it. It has to suck. And, if you're Adam, you wake up from one of your briefer naps only to have your mom come in and laugh at you because you've figured out how to take off your pants.

I didn't think he'd be that precocious. But there he was, standing at the end of his crib, yelling away in just a onesie and a lone sock, pants on the floor and the other sock waving defiantly in the air. We had a good time for a bit after that; he crawled around and we played on the floor some, and he decided he liked his cousin's present (a bulldozer!) and was very very angry that I wouldn't take it out of the box for Himself to play with. He wiped his nose on my pant leg and poked at the poor dog for a while, and then took a really long afternoon nap, ate a bit of dinner, and went back down again.

I'm hoping this means it's blowing through quickly and that tomorrow night will be easy. Luckily, KC and Leah (who both had a marvelous time) got home and kept him occupied while I wrapped KC's presents, which makes me a step ahead of last year. Last year I wrapped nothing and resorted to gift bags and pretty boxes, sort of tossed together Christmas morning. But I even got his stocking stuffed already! And while I had the kids down visiting Mom yesterday, he did all the Santa wrapping, which means we don't necessarily need to be awake till all hours putting crap together; nope, we just have to wait out Miss Leah, who has been completely wired for the past week.

In fact, I'm going to go wrestle her into bed now. Wish me luck. I'll need it.