Sabotaging Crazy Mountain

Some very astute people have asked how it's possible to build Crazy Mountain™ with a toddler in the house.

Do you happen to know the answer? Please? It would be swell if you do because then you could tell me and then my next Crazy Mountain might take half as long to build.

For what it's worth, building Crazy Mountain is one of my favorite things. It's real-life Tetris, except that each and every toy has a right place to be and a wrong place to be. There's no swapping a blue squre for a yellow square because they aren't the same. It's all a very deliberate work of art.

It's a work of art that makes my OCD heart so very happy because out of chaos comes organization. Beautiful, beautiful organization.

It's easier to achieve that level of beauty when the toys stay where I put them.

Anyone who had been watching as I stacked toy after toy would have wondered what was wrong with me. I should have banged my head against a wall instead of trying to stack toys because one after another, they grew legs and made their way to the playroom.

I would stack a few packages then Mila would grab the top one and run. I'd follow her to grab whatever she stole, and she would promptly steal something else even as I was trying to put away the first thing. We repeated that pattern a whole bunch of times, right up until reinforcements showed up.

Obviously, my reinforcement was no match for the nutty toddler. My reinforcement was a pretty fantastic distraction, though. Instead of climbing Crazy Mountain in search of Elmo and a picnic basket, Mila was happy climbing her sister and jumping.

And THAT is why I owe Alexis a super awesome Christmas present or two. She's a superhero for giggling her way through getting beat up.