Escape Artist

Brother post strip, which included the playpen.

If I didn't know any better, I would think my son was fathered by Spiderman or a monkey. I think most mothers of baby boys would agree they love, love, love to climb. So quick and agile. Just this week mine has mysteriously scampered from the bed for a 30-minute unattended romp in the office. Found him with the fax machine.
And apparently he loves to strip. Didn't know he had the ability to escape the confines of his clothing, either. But he does and likes it. (That's how I know he's Eric's.)
And then last night, after a fit in the playpen, I heard a thud and ran to the living room. Here he comes walking along glancing back every now and then I guess in amazement at his own accomplishment. The kid had scaled his playpen.
What's a mother to do? What's next? All I know is that playpen has been my saving grace. It's allowed me to get work and housework done. At the moment, all I can think of is that "Saturday Night Live" skit with Mike Myers "chained" to the monkey bars with his kid leash. Hummm.