Workaholic Babies

Nobody works harder than babies. Go watch a baby and see if it doesn't exhuast you just to witness their level of industry. Babies are basically workaholics.

I remember this phase from when Primo was about eight or nine months and used to report to his office aka the Exersaucer.

"Go to your office now," David would tell him, "You're late to work."

Terza's office is on the rug near the coffee table in the living room. Plop her down there and two seconds later, she's found something useful to do. Not useful in adult terms, of course. In fact, in adult terms, her work is the very opposite of useful. But it helps keep the family economy kicking because it gives me more work. So everyone's employed: her making a mess and me cleaning up the mess and making sure in the making of it she doesn't injure herself.

A normal work day for Terza includes:

Ripping the covers off the magazines on the coffee table.
Taking the books off the bottom shelf.
Picking up and sampling desiccated Cheerios and assorted snack morsels.
Shredding tissues.
Balling her brother and sister's masterpiece drawings into a crumpled heap.
Investigating the lint on the rug.

What impresses me is the urgency with which she confucts her businees. Always high stakes. And the determination. She's indefatiguable.

You can almost hear her muttering "A baby's work is never doing" and sighing ever-so-quietly to herself.