Either write something worth reading or do something worth writing—Benjamin Franklin


In addition...

This morning I woke up to Little squealing, "I'm a naked body!" like it was possibly the best time he's ever had. If you think that got me out of bed as fast as this poor pregnant body could go, you would be right. It turns out he was only half naked, so in the end it wasn't terrible, but still... pretty funny.

Quotables

Little man has pretty much turned into a non-stop quotable little human. Seriously. I'm pretty sure he couldn't be funnier. I couldn't help sharing some of my favorites.


I am sure I'm to blame for this one, but he has started being very concerned about his "crazy hair" when it is fluffing all over his head. The other night during bath time he started yelling, “My crazy hair is dropping on me!” Few times have I ever seen him that upset. 

He loves to try to force me to eat. He never does it to Bryce, so apparently I look like I'm constantly starving or something. Basically he just yells, "Eat it! Eat it! EAT IT!!" and waves whatever it is frantically in my face. I'm not sure whether to laugh or cry half of the time. 

My personal favorite: “Yes, you may can’t.” I think we need to work on that concept a bit. 

He is constantly blaming inanimate objects for things. Ex: “The fridge door hit me on purpose!” When he is clearly the one hitting himself with the fridge door. No matter how many times I try to explain that they mean him no harm and he simply needs to be careful, he is convinced that everything in this world is out to get him.

Every time it is windy outside he announces, “The big bad wolf is blowing the house down.” And then a conversation follows detailing why the big bad wolf cannot blow our house down (because it is made of brick) and ends with him telling me that we are the third piggy with a "big strong house." 

“No. Thank you for asking me though.” At least he is polite. But usually it is when I tell him that he needs to eat, or take a bath, or go to bed. Not exactly optional, but he sure tries hard to make it that way.

“Buggies”=Anything in your nose, eyes, or ears that shouldn’t be there. You have to be careful where you sit these days because if he gets one glimpse of anything he announces, “Mommy, you have buggies in you nose. Let me get a wipey.”

He doesn’t drink chocolate milk, but “chwocolate milk.” So far it is the only word where Little embraces his non-existent Brooklyn roots. 

I kissed him once and he told me I had "scary kisses." Oh dear. 

He keeps coming up with different ways to manipulate. He mostly employs this at nap time, but it is not uncommon in our house for him to yell, “Everett is kind of sad. I need a snunnel (snuggle).” Even though he is clearly just fine. Another new ploy is, “I need to talk to you.” Then when you go in and ask what he’d like to talk about he says, “Um… um… I don’t know. What do you want to talk about?” As if he isn't the one keeping you up wanting to talk, but rather the opposite. 

He is forever giving instructions prefaced with, “Sit on your bottom and...” Sometimes I wonder how it is that I, being the adult, usually end up being the one feeling like he just pulled one over on me pretty much all day. Every day is one giant logic exercise with an almost 3 year old.  


And last but definitely not least, "I'm having a hard time until this baby comes out of my tummy." Accompanied with the proper grunts and groans, this is usually when he is getting up from any sitting position. Whoever said that children are little mirrors of yourself is absolutely right. I'm pretty sure he asks, "Mommy? You ok?" every time I move these days. Sad, but true. 

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