There's a certain quietness that I think all parents recognize as the sound of a kid up to no good. I was folding some laundry and Conan (I thought) was playing in his room, when I noticed it was quiet - too quiet. When I went to check I found he was in fact in the spare bedroom, happily browsing through the books, pulling them off the shelves into a pile all around him. Naturally, the first thing I did was go for the camera.
Whatcha reading there, little C? Marxist theory? Well of course. Gotta start young!
This toothy smile gets me every time.
But still, these aren't books for playing with. So we picked them up and made sure the door to the spare room was really shut this time, and went downstairs and read all of Conan's books together. They're a little more accessible (and have WAY better pictures) than those books on Marxism.