I now say things like "that'd be perfect" and "wipe my butt, dada".
I cry when I have to go to bed.
I must "drive" every single mower at Lowes.
I prefer to wear my pajamas all day long.
I have not had a potty accident in one week. (That is when I peed on Grandma Harris's lap twice in one day.)
I am obsessed with the temperature of food.
I like to build the world's longest toy trains and take them all over the house.
I help paint the baby's room.
I love all babies.
I have a calendar on my door because I like to know what is next.
I fix rugs and push in drawers.
I think the McDonalds arches symbolize an ice cream place.
I get crazy excited when people come over and visit at our house.
I can "read" many of my books to myself.
I detest the air being on in the car. Loudly.
I collect matchbox/hotwheel cars. I have about 40.
I can almost reach the fawcet in the bathroom when standing on my stepstool.
I know the names of all standard handtools and the difference between an Indy Car, sprint car, and a nascar, which my dada hates and has taught me to call "taxicabs".
I count to twelve.
I wear a 10.5 shoe.
I wear 2T pants and 3T tops.
I choose frosted shredded wheat for breakfast most mornings.
I want to see what is on the stove and help my mama cook every meal. Usually she lets me measure rice; ironically we never eat rice. I wonder where it goes?
I clap my hands at my parents when I am mad or want their attention.
I opt for my mama most of the time.
I think playdough is the best thing ever. Uncle [aunt] Jessica, at my request, made me a potty, motorcycle, and my dada this weekend. She has skills.
I talk to myself a lot.
I am a fun guy to have around.
1 comment:
where have our babies gone
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