Asleep or awake. Take your pick.

We put up the Christmas tree over the weekend. We cleverly did it while the Baby Man napped. And when he woke, we promptly barricaded said tree behind ottomans and benches. So as I sit on our new couch (which we were forced into purchasing when the cat (who shall remain nameless . . . because we're not entirely sure which one it was) peed on the old one months ago) and blog, I can only see the top half of the tree. But is sure is a pretty top half.

This got me thinking about Jake's first Christmas. Or rather his first Christmas as a walking talking wee lad. So technically it was his second Christmas. It was the first time Mr. Tree and I got a real tree and we decided to keep it in the hallway, in the curve of the stairs. In this way it would be outside the 12 foot gate we were using to keep the Little Man contained in our open concept living room/dining room/kitchen.

As it turned out, Jake could've cared less. Sure he loved the tree. He wanted to look at it and squealed with excitement every time he was led by it on the way up for a bath or a nap. But he never touched it. It's as though it just never occurred to him.

He was the same way with, well, everything. If it wasn't a toy made specifically for him, he didn't touch it. I could leave every breakable knick knack, piece of pottery or vase of fresh cut flowers out within his reach and he'd barely notice their presence. The only cupboard he was interested in playing in was the one we opened for him - the one full of tupperware containers. We covered the outlets with those dang childproof adult proof thingies, we locked the knife drawer and made sure all cleaners were put up high. In the end it probably wouldn't have mattered.

If he did happen to get into something he shouldn't, I could say a gentle "no" and he'd back off immediately. If you took something away from him that you didn't want him to have, he simply smiled at you and toddled off to do something else.

But Jake didn't sleep. Ever.

Noah gets into everything. Everything. He opens every drawer, dunks soothers in toilets, roots in every cupboard. He makes a beeline for computers, phones and remotes. He screams bloody murder if you walk by a set of stairs and don't immediately stop so he can climb them. An hour later, he's still climbing and he screams bloody murder again when we try to redirect him somewhere else.

The Baby Man throws temper tantrums like they're going out of style. Every slight, real or imagined, results in crocodile tears and heartfelt wails. Oh he'll play with his toys, until something, anything I'm sure he knows he's not supposed to have catches those gorgeous blue eyes. Then he's off. With a giggle and speed unlike any I've seen before.

The tree never stood a chance. So it's behind bars. And we admire it from the top up.

But Noah? Noah sleeps.

Apparently you just can't have it both ways.

Doesn't matter. I'll take it either way or neither way. Because my boys rock my world, whether they're sleeping or awake, playing with toys or trees.