I just got finished washing the boys hair and trimming it. Today is picture day at school, and if I’m honest, it’s only the second one I’ve remembered. In months past, life has been just that crazy.
Also, you both needed haircuts. Badly. And fortunately, I’m getting much better at the haircut thing.
One day you may hate me for this, but I’m orchestrating matching outfits that ooze prep. Coral jeans with turquoise gingham shirts, sleeves rolled up. If I could, I’d be sending you in smocked jon-jons, but Oklahoma doesn’t roll like that. I will have to settle for monogrammed t-shirts.
Bubba, yesterday I took you to the store. Before we left, I asked you what else we needed. “Goldfish,” you replied, so we headed towards the cracker aisle. Once on the cracker aisle, you also asked for “robots”, these little Despicable Me shaped grahams, and the way you said “robots” was just too charming to tell you no.
Around the house these days, you wear boots. Two sizes too big, and often on the wrong feet. We aren’t quite sure why you like them, but I’m thinking it has something to do with astronauts. You love “space”, and Buzz (Lightyear, but you just call the movie Buzz). “Watch Buzz!” is a command, not a request.
Lovies continue to be a big deal around here. Right now, Bubba, you have four: New Lovie is actually the really well loved and now rather gross old lovie. Big Lovie has a jingle frog attached. The real New Lovie is actually your brother’s supposed substitute lovie, for when his fall to literal shreds. But you are taking good care of it for him. And the navy polka dotted lovie is some kind of trusty sidekick to the rest of your lovie collection. All of this is fine, as long as it’s not revealing a predisposition to hoarding, a characteristic I’m embarrassed to admit that you come by genetically.
Kiddo, you are growing up so fast. You’ve got this engineer’s brain, that’s constantly putting things together: old paper towel tubes become tunnels, and train tracks around chair legs, and puzzles. You have the entire Hungry Little Caterpillar memorized, except you call it the Hungry Caterpillow. I found a stuffed Hungry Caterpillar underneath the seat when I was cleaning out the car the other day, and you promptly repossessed it. Hungry Caterpillar is now the third most loved thing in your life, behind Two Lovies and your paci. Also, trains. All the time. When you are misbehaving, we threaten to put trains in time out, and it works, thank heavens.
Sometimes, right before bed, you curl up next to me on the sofa. You take my arm and wrap it around you, and ask for covers. And then we sit. And sometimes have small conversations, where you say, “Ohhhhhhhh, OK.” when you get it. You can be kind of bossy to your siblings, and your curious little brain is quickly figuring out the way this world works, and you’re very in tune to human dynamics.
Charley, we still call you Baby. You will always be our baby. But you are so grown up. You are so smart, so bright. You looked at me yesterday and said, “I want Chug-King-Ton.” (Chuggington). We only watch the Chuggington video in the car, and you know that, but you were pretty insistant about wanting to watch it right then. Chuggington is definitely a favorite for you, right along with Innie Da Ooh (Winnie the Pooh). Also, you are very clear about telling us what video you would like to watch by commanding us to “Turn Around!” while pointing an index finger at the Netflix choices.
You are into EV.ERY.THING. Pretzels, cups, toy kitchen stuff, puzzles, boots, hats, necklaces, brushing your teeth, finding pens, trying to scribble on paper, goldfish, brown bars, cans of pineapple, piles of pillows. It’s exhausting. You’re at that age where you can barely see to the surface of tables, and you’re constantly walking around, scanning for something to get into. It’s a stage that passes, I now realize, thank goodness.
Your hair is long, and we haven’t cut it. It hangs down in your eyes, and sometimes, when your bow falls out, we catch you turning your head to peek out at us under a mass of non-bangs. I don’t want to cut it, though, because the annoyance of having it hang in your face is the only thing that keeps you from pulling the bows out of your hair. And you look so cute in bows.
I’m so glad God gifted me with each of you. I love you to the moon and back.
Love,
Mama
Just the sweetest! I love to watch them grow but man it breaks my heart how quick it all is!