Ava's tiny little legs never quit moving unless it is to momentarily inspect something, or to take a nap. She toddles from one end of the house to the other zig-zagging around the couches, in and out of the bedrooms, tours into the bathroom, and on occasion a quick jaunt into the laundry room. She has left no corner or crook of our house undiscovered. It is with this constant movement that I have come to understand why mothers sometimes go off the deep end.
Ava likes to travel with a light snack. It isn't with the complimentary packet of peanuts, but with Cheerios and raisins. Their size makes them perfect for tucking away into miniature hands while leaving a few free fingers for exploration. Often, she will leave a few behind as if to say, "Ava was here," only to be stepped on later in the day by me. The dark purple raisins are camoflauged perfectly by our hideous brown carpet, and the shadows help to hide them even better. As soon as your foot compresses down onto a plump raisin, it instantly fuses into your skin with the carpet. Picking raisin goo out of fibrous carpet shag will turn any mother into a trailmix vigilante.
Just last week, Ava recieved her first box of jumbo crayons. I hold a tight reign over when and where Ava can color, but I'm sure there will come a day when her sneaky little kid fingers will pocket the one lone Crayola. It's only a matter of time before her trail of crumbs switch to technicolor, marking her well traversed trail.