Dat's a good idea

David is always surprising me. 

And not necessarily in a good way. 

He is keen on finding the muddiest water hole to splash through and you can always check his face for remnants of his last meal. I've begun to arm myself with a good stain remover for his clothes alone. They have more children to adorn and miles to travel. Yet through the mess and muck is a young boy with lots of love to lavish on his family. Each morning he asks for cheese on his yogurt. Sounds a bit gross right?! Let me elaborate! He is actually asking for crunchy wheat germ that I sprinkle in for my blonde boy to stir up, though he definitely throws off the unsuspecting breakfast helper if you do not know what he is referring too.

 (the usual look...dirt and food sprinkled across his sun soaked face.)

David has finally begun to spit out full concise sentences. Throw in exaggerated hand gestures with whatever he is attempting to convey and you have to suppress many a giggle or untimely smile. As per many middle children, he doesn't always relish the privilege to play alone, eat alone, sleep alone, BE alone. As he develops his own personality, one phrase he has coined and I imagine has been pressed into his memory by none other than his mother is the phrase "Dat's a good idea." Whether its the announcement of an impending meal or a trip to town or his favorite cartoon, it's always a "good idea."

Animated, brimming with curiosity, and often coated in God's great creation, his stained clothes and mystery filled pockets always keeps us smiling and wondering what's next.

8 Months and Spring Cuts

     Some days I swear the minute hand on my wall clock drags along in earnest time with the drudgery of scrubbing pots, wiping noses, kissing tears away( this of course is not so bad), and scrubbing crusty dried stains out of our Sunday best. However one glance at the calendar and I wonder what worm hole has sucked up my sweet baby and left me with rolls of chubby laughter and over-eager hands. 

***************************************

8 months and counting...

I can ALMOST crawl, but refuse to try.

I love green beans, even though my brothers never have.

I've discovered yelling gets what I want quicker.

I'm attached to mommy and mommy is okay with that.

I love tickles under my chin.

I'm fascinated by the cat. Mommy hopes to use the unsuspecting cat as crawling motivation!!!

 I still enjoy 2 naps a day.

No teeth yet.

Everything goes straight in my mouth for quality testing.

******************************************

Big brothers received their warm weather hair cuts recently, but I'm wondering if I lopped off their hair too soon. The cooler nights have returned, but there is loads of sunshine during the day to keep there heads warm and their browning hands busy.

Busy digging up worms and moving weeds. Busy kicking the soccer ball around and chasing after furry friends with wagging tongues. Busy digging in the cool sand scattered across my porch instead of in the sand box. Busy jumping on the trampoline and showing off new boo-boos. Busy being boys.

Spotlight on Little D

Personalities are a shew in from birth. We don't see the whole picture, but God knit each of us in the womb to be unique and special. David took 18 hours to get here and that same lax-a-daze attitude still persists. It works in his favor and against him. He loathes moving fast, picking up toys, or going to sleep-- be it nap OR bedtime. He isn't too tainted when big bro swats a toy, little bro is announcing he is overdue on a diaper change, or is introduced to new friends or a new environment. He is also a magnet to mud puddles, specially when he is in his Sunday Best. Thankfully we have a good investment in rubber boots. I relish the thought that when I grow old and he flies the coop, I'll look back and chuckle. Memories of a boy who was never able to hide, emotions or whatever he ate at his last meal encrusted above his lip or swiped across his cheek. Which brings me to the point of this post...

Tonight, David did not want to go to sleep. Whining, requests for a drink, muffled kicks on the wall, teasing big brother, and playing with forbidden toys. Tick-ticking off the minutes and frustrating his exhaustive loving parents. I finally gave in and chose to rock my toddler and his bulky blanket. If orchestrated by David, he would be rocked every night. It's his secret vice as sure as a caramel white chocolate latte is mine. If not for endless dirty dishes, oatmeal encrusted highchairs, carpets pleading for a vacuum, and crumpled clean laundry long overdue for a home, I would gladly indulge such treats on a more regular basis. 

 I attempt to fold him into the confines of the rocking chair armrests. I relish stroking his blonde silky hair. But my baby child has grown.

His legs cascade down my legs. His head feels heavy nestled in the crook of my arm. His droopy eyelids and chit chat give away his age. We rock and his smug smile never disappears. Eventually I give up and tuck him back in to bed awake but relaxed. Maybe it will usher him into dreamland soon. I'll have double dish duty in the morn. It was worth it.

I know I KNOW, they wont be young forever.

The Dancing Lady

     This story I'm about to unfold is worth more than gold itself. It has literally pulled me out of my hiatus from stagnant unmotivated blogging with a force! Sit back and enjoy!!! ;)

     For me having children has been engrossed with snotty noses, diaper changes,  and more diaper changes. Samuel is finally emerging into quite the charismatic preschooler with a million questions that no answer can satisfy. He is also at the age where what he is thinking slips right of his mouth with an innocent twang. This evening we decided to do something quite crazy. TAKE the children with us to a fine dining establishment. Bonefish Grille is usually reserved for birthdays, anniversaries, and a babysitter is always prearranged. But after fighting Christmas crowds we lost a couple of marbles and arrived at 4:30 before the dinner rush. As per habit, we always make 2 trips to the bathroom with a 3 year old. At the beginning and end of the meal. I volunteered for the end.
Here is our chain of events:

     We enter the ladies room and wait patiently for our turn. Nice lady comes out of stall, we go in stall. Nice unsuspecting lady begins to wash her hands.

Samuel: Is she the cooker mommy?
Me: no, she is a customer. She is eating here just like we did.
Samuel: She doesn't cook?
Me: I don't know Samuel, but this time she came to eat like we did.
Samuel: well is she the dancing lady?
(nice lady is still washing hands right outside the stall)
Me: Cough, catch my breath, shhhhhhh, Samuel. Let's not talk so loud. How old are you Samuel?
Samuel: mommy is she not the dancing lady?
Me: Flush toilet...flush again. Peek outside. Sigh in relief. Nice lady is gone.

     WHERE DID MY THREE YEAR OLD SON GET THE IDEA THAT A DANCING LADY IS PART OF THE DINNER ENTERTAINMENT?!?!?!?!?!?

#1 embarrassing moment since having children...it has begun!!!

Growing Pains

David is 18 months. He is still my baby, but making great strides in growing up. Today marked the beginning of a new era.

BIG BOY BED

I regretfully move my cuddly boy into his first big boy bed. With the approach of baby sisters' birth it's time to say goodbye to the crib. For now I'll stick with nap time. David is an early riser and I, nor Tim, am ready for our day to start at sunrise!! At the least the crib allows us a little more shut eye in the morning. David was quite excited for the change in routine and only got up once. When I went to put Samuel down for his rest time, I had to snap another picture of my wee babe all snuggled up with his quilt, blanket, and pacifier.

A babe of many words

My affectionate David is nearing 17 months. I'm not tedious enough to record milestones of my small children and I see them conquering many things these days.  Just on a whim I started jotting down words that David could say. I was pleasantly surprised.... Here are a few words along with their translations!!!

pwease- please      
tank u- thank you
cook- book           
hot
twaktur- tractor    
backhoe
doggy                     
kee-kee- kitty kitty
bite                         
dow- down
i cha- high chair     
ball
momma                  
go out
bye-bye                 
cwakuh-  cracker
0rsey- horse
choo choo
piper- diaper
aight- light

Samuel was such a LATE talker, (at least 26 months old) that it amazes me to hear how much David absorbs and then spouts it right back out. Not that we lack from Samuel now. He is my quiet absorber who stuns me with phrases like "oh my goodness" and "of course mommy."