Thursday, August 16, 2012

Not my baby anymore

In a few weeks, my baby won't be my baby anymore.

But, let's face it...he hasn't been my baby for a long time.

I mean, he doesn't say "tarmel" anymore.  Now he knows it's caramel.

The two of us have had some good bonding time these last two weeks when big brother has been in school.  We have three hours, just the two of us, and it's been fun.

We've done a lot of painting and coloring and stickering.  We've watched a lot of sponge bob and Scooby Doo.  My boy?  He loves himself some Mystery Machine Madness.  I honestly cannot believe how much he likes Scooby Doo - we find it every day and if it isn't on TV, we watch a DVD.  It's pretty funny because Elliott is pretty nervous about solving mysteries with monsters and ghosts.  But, my little Chickie totally gets that it isn't real and it's a cool show.

Wyatt's head wound

This kid is also pretty funny and I love listening to the stuff he comes up with.  Last week, he crashed on his razor scooter and gave himself a little head wound.  The other day in the car, driving home from some time with cousin Parker while I was at a doctor's appointment I heard a little grunt from his direction in the car.  I asked him if he was okay.  He said, "Mom, I got it!"

"Got what?" I asked.

"Dis."  He replied.  I turned to see some little thing in his hand.

"What's dis?" I asked.

"Part of my brain" he told me.  He'd picked off the little scab on his head and was convinced that his gray matter was oozing out.

He'd gotten so much bolder and more brave this summer.  Swimming lessons were a bust, but swimming with dad is going excellent.  Thank heaven's for Wednesday night dinner's with great-grandpa and the pool afterwards.  Minus the fact that we cannot keep his swimsuit on, he's doing really great.

Bare bum!

Next week, this little guy starts preschool.  Every day after kindergarten drop off we talk about school and every day, he tells me that he doesn't want to go, that school is dumb, and he wants to stay home with me.  He might be one of those boys that cries.  Or, he might be the class clown and get into trouble all the time.  I'm really not sure, but I'm excited to see what happens.

That is of course, as long as his doesn't insist on wearing size 3 month pants to school.

Helping with the new baby's laundry. The pants don't quite fit.

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