They both bring me books to read all day long and love to curl up on my lap as I do all the voices and chant all the rhymes.
They bump into each other frequently and cramp the other's style, but love each other more than any old best friend ever could.
They both prefer me over anyone in the world but never hesitate to cry for Daddy the minute I scold or when it's bed time already and they know who will most likely come back in for one more cuddle, story or song.
The big beast is a charming chunk of sunshine and hair pulling frustration. But I seriously dare you to stay mad for too long.
He is so smart it's scary and a little too honest. Like when he pointed to the 300lb woman minding her own business in front of us at church today and innocently noted that, "She, she, she... is bigger...(realization forming slowly apparently) big, BIG, TOO BIG FOR HER CHAIR!!" His honesty embarrasses me (actually mortifies really) at times and brings me to choked up tears at other times. He is the most forgiving person I have ever met and he'd have to be as the first guinea pig, I mean child, in the family with a mother like me. Every morning, no matter if I threatened him back into bed within an inch of his little life at 3AM when he was scared, he greets me with pure surprise and elation that we get another day together as very best friends--like he can't wait to get started!
He is a silly potty-mouthed, emotional, creative scientist, who is bursting out of the seams with one-liners to write home about so watch out!
The little beast is going through a stage. He needs a breakthrough. It's a good thing he is so affectionate and a beautiful, beautiful boy because what he makes up for in endearing affection and adorability he lacks in communication right now.
He wants to tell me something. He needs me to figure it out as if it's killing him and I'm just not getting it. Sometimes I finally swoop him up and beg him to show me... just to have him point to a blank space in the fridge as if he recalled something that was once there and was stolen from him outright. So, instead he settles for watching Toy Story 2 over and over until I can't take it anymore and force everyone into the great outdoors- slippers or not. "We're outta here beasts!" I should never be surprised that mother nature makes everything better as she always does, but I always am.
I know the boy will talk around age 2 as his brother did. I am not worried. But I sure wish I could make him feel understood until then. I look for other ways to connect in the meantime. A snuggly reading session, a wild goose chase down the beach, pointing to each bird or dog we can find on a stroll around the tall palm trees, or just catching him in a sleepy mood and stroking his still-baby-soft-legs and cheeks with my index finger as he giggles lazily.
Just some Mama thoughts on a Sunday night. Aloha.