What the...?

Since the 2 year old and the 3 month old took turns keeping me up all night the other night, I employed Jason to watch the awake Donny while baby Thomas and I slept.

No matter how much I may fuss about Jason's habits and priorities, one thing is sure: he is good with the babies. If he did everything with as much patience and responsibility as he shows when taking care of the little ones, we'd have no issues.
(And, yes, we tell him this all the time. Any opportunity for postive reinforcement...)

Anyway... so I come out into the living room after my nap to find Jason twisted into the arm chair... face on the seat, arms long at his sides, butt up in the air. In short, the same position newborn Donny was put in by the NICU nurses.

Then he lets something drop out of his mouth and onto the floor. A cork-sized, bullet-shaped piece of metal of some sort.

I knew I had to ask.
Even more, I knew I was supposed to ask.

"What was in your mouth?" I said.
"Magnet."
I sigh.
"Well, that is really smart." I said in my best sarcastic voice, shaking my head.

I swear sometimes.
How old is he : 13 years -- or 13 months?
It is truly hard to tell.