I haven't caught him in the act, but I assume he looks much like Donald O'Connor did in Singing in the Rain. I put him down in his playpen and come back to find him all cockeyed, a trail of drool marking his path like breadcrumbs, should he choose to return to his original spot. (I can't imagine why he'd need to go back, but I suppose when you have such large volumes of urp, you may as well use them for a grander purpose.)
In this photo, Cael realizes he's turned himself in such a way that he can no longer see his animal cards and instead is forced to read the Tolstoy-long playpen warning in three different languages - all of which tell him that playing in this pen could "result in serious injury or death."
Partly because of this and partly because of this, we've moved him from his cradle by our bed into his crib in the nursery at night. He did pretty well the first night - actually made it through one whole three hour period in there by himself. (I didn't do nearly as well. It's hard to sleep when you're clutching the monitor receiver in a death grip and holding it to your ear.)
Of course, Ryan checked on him once due to "separation anxiety" and I checked on him twice because I couldn't hear him breathing - but other than that he was all alone.
He's all growed up. =(
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