After a few rainy, cold days and an ill-tempered visit to Old Navy this morning, it became apparent that my sweet Wyatt needed a little gross motor activity. You know, since he's like a Jack Russell and all and needs to be run lest he self-destruct.
So when we got home from our screechy, whiny morning outing, I called the local gymnastics academy to inquire about their open play for today. They were open for another 25 minutes so we hustled into the car and my mom took the backroads to deliver us there within five minutes (ahh, the love of a grandma). We got there late enough that they didn't charge us (yay! free makes me so happy) and Wyatt got about 15 minutes of craziness out of his system. He mostly played in the bouncy house (p.s. when did we stop calling those moonwalks?) and the foam pit. Incidentally, foam pits might be a cousin to quicksand since it seemed, briefly, as though we might lose Wyatt into its depths.
Needless to say, 15 minutes wasn't quite enough time for my wound-up kiddo, so a little crying ensued upon departure. As I carried him out of the building, we made out the following between sobs: "I want more free play!"
After a questionably-mannered dinner tonight, Wyatt was doing his best to entertain Great Grandma and the grandparents. Dad was trying to get his attention about something and Wyatt was doing his best to ignore his grandpa. So, when Grandpa didn't take the non-verbal I'm -turning-my-back-on-you hint, Wyatt turned and said, "I busy doing this" before turning away once again.
Well. I guess he knows his own mind.