Mess on the Move

It's no secret that my youngest child is, well, something of a mess. He is into stuff the way the other two never even imagined possible. And, frankly, I find that I just can't keep up. I will hear crashing (or other suspicious noises) upstairs, and while I'm up there cleaning up the mess of the moment, he slips off to see what else he can get into. And then, it's crashing and banging downstairs, and the cycle repeats. This kid gets into the pantry, the fridge, the highest shelf in the room. He can remove child-proof caps and can disassemble an ink pen faster than you can say "Max." He can find a marker or crayon and write all over himself or another surface, while Ruth is struggling to find a writing utensil to use for school. And don't even get me started on the emptying of trash cans! I attempted to get the boys' room and the playroom cleaned up today, and as fast as I could put toys in a toy box, he was taking them out and scattering them all over the place. In a way, it is an awesome thing to behold. In another way, it is exhausting. I know this is a phase, and that it will (hopefully) eventually pass. And as much as I know I'll miss my babies when they are all grown up, I don't think I will miss this part all that much.