A name, it is a-changin'

When I first began blogging, Baby Boone was a scant two months old, and received the moniker "Baby Boone" because he was, well, a baby, and "Boone" provides a slight clue as to what his real name might be. (Actually, when I first began blogging, I had just learned that I was pregnant with my second child. But that blog was beyond boring, and I took it down. [The Peanut Gallery will kindly refrain from saying, "Oh, just that blog was boring?" Thank you. Mgmt.]) I knew that I wouldn't be able to call him Baby Boone forever; indeed, since he's been toddling for a month and a half now, he could reasonably be considered a toddler, not an infant. I think I've got a new name for him now, though.


This evening, Boy Wonder was watching a movie upstairs. Dragon was watching that annual football game thingy in the living room, and Baby Boone was toddling about, playing with various toys, and trying to grab my shoes off the shoe rack so he could lick their soles. (Ew. Don't worry, I'm trying to figure out where to move the shoe rack so he cannot access the shoes anymore.) I was cooking dinner in the kitchen. Dragon came into the kitchen for a couple of minutes, and I poked my head around the corner to see if any interesting commercials were airing. I did not see Baby Boone on the floor anywhere, and then I said, "Whoa!" and vaulted over the baby gate. For lo, the baby was sitting by himself on the futon.

"Whoa what?" Dragon said. I turned to him, about to say something along the lines of, "Dude, don't leave the baby by himself on the futon! He could fall off!" when Dragon looked around the corner too. And said, "Oh my God. I put him down on the floor. I swear I did. How on earth did he get up there?"


So. The baby, who will be ten months old tomorrow, climbed onto the futon. Let me say that again: THE BABY. CLIMBED. ONTO THE FUTON. All by himself. How he managed, we have no bloody idea.

Ladies and gentlemen, may I present: Action Hero.