Okay, I've accepted it. Apparently my baby is smart. I don't know how people know this since he will still chew on my dirty toes, loves wet paper towels, and freaks out over plastic bottles... but this is what people say. At first it was my husband and I thought "Well of course he will say that, Evan is his offspring." Then it was the grandparents and since grandparents think their grandbabies poop gold I didn't put too much stock into it. But yesterday, at the grocery store, a complete stranger stopped to ask me Monkey's age. I told her Monkey is 8 months (I know... 8 months old... yowsers) and she said, "Your baby is very smart."
Again, I don't know what prompted her to say that since at that moment Monkey was leaning out of the cart trying to grab on to a bag of flour. This moment though was better than when I parked the cart, went to grab something out of the freezer and when I turned back around Monkey was about to pull a bottle of beer out of a six pack. Or when I turned my back in the produce department and he almost had the entire bin of apples falling on top of him.
And all I can figure out is that smart means getting in to everything... I mean everything. And now that he is semi-mobile (with the rolling and the army crawl) he gets in to things I never would have thought about.
For example, here is Monkey playing with a rug.
But, the real reason he is smart is that he can wrap his mother around his little pinkie. Because once he realized I was taking pictures of him, he did this:
I know, you want to hug him... but remember the pain (I'll tell you a little secret... the pain is worth it).