Papa Old's Psych Ward

Young Old recently discovered his limbs, and since that point has been in a near-constant state of manic arm and leg frenzy. Face punching fist jabs and legs running through air like a Warner Bros. cartoon character, this kid is going gangbusters over his new found abilities. Now I'm normally not one for inhibiting personal growth or limiting individual freedoms, but today I about had it. Young Old was gyrating and kung fu punching with such gusto, that he was stressing himself out, repeatedly socking himself in the eye, knocking his heels together, twisting his back and neck out of working order, etc. So like any orderly dealing with an out-of-control lunatic, I mummy-wrapped Young Old nice and snug in a straight jacket-like cocoon of relaxation and limited self-harm potential. We both giggled (well, he gurgled) at how silly the whole circumstance was, then he gave me a look like "Okay, jokes over. Let me out." To which I replied, "Nap time," which, thankfully, he was cool with.

My little locomotive loco: