Why didn't anyone warn me?!?!

Before I had The Boy, I thought I knew what to expect. The Girl was a perfect child. She didn’t cry, she talked and walked early, she obeyed when we told her to do something. She was awesome. Even as she entered Toddlerhood, she was sweet and quiet and loving. The Boy was born when The Girl was almost two. She was an awesome big sister. She wasn’t jealous at all. I was scared that The Boy was going to be her complete opposite. A horrible baby. A screamer, a clinger, colicky, something, anything bad.

But he wasn’t. He was such a good baby. Quiet, sweet, started sleeping through the night at two months, and that he did by himself. He was so precious.












Through infancy he was always quiet. Just sat back and watched everyone and everything. He was a bit lazy. He didn’t want to roll over, or crawl, or scoot, or anything. He just wanted to lay on the floor and be waited on.












But still. He was wonderful. Then he grew up.

My sister had three boys, years before The Boy was born. I was around them a lot. You think I’d have remembered what they were like. Or maybe they weren’t as bad as The Boy. I don’t know. But what I have now? A complete and total tornado of terror. He is in constant motion; he never slows down. Always touching something, tasting something, pushing something, hitting something. ALWAYS getting into something. Case in point:











These are the shorts he started out in this morning. While I was on the computer talking to TB, he was getting down the Bordeaux’s Butt Paste diaper rash medicine and self-medicating. Don’t think I’m a bad mom. This stuff is on top of the dresser in a plastic box. I often have a hard time finding it, it is so covered with diapers and wipes boxes. But my creative little boy got a small plastic chair to climb on. Yeah, he’s smart.

And talk about rough and tumble. His favorite thing to do is wrestle. I blame The Hubster for that. He will wrestle with anyone who happens to be on the floor (The Boy, not The Hubster). You can’t even crouch down to talk to him without him trying to tackle you. And his favorite person to wrestle with? The Girl. Whether she wants to or not. He loves to pick on her. He likes to hit, with his hands, or whatever toy is in his hands. And he’ll hit whichever of her body parts is closest to him. He kicks and pushes too. He steals toys from her and throws them over the baby gate so that she can’t get them. Another thing. I honestly cannot remember The Girl ever getting holes in any of her clothes (unless, of course, you count the socks that she cut off her feet). But I have the feeling that this











is going to become a common sight in our house. He got these beauties by pretending to be a bunny rabbit on concrete. Full hoppage on the knees. Sounds like fun, eh?

The Boy is such a.... well, he’s such a boy. Now, don’t let me scare you off here. He is a wonderful kid. Very loving, when he wants to be. If he sees a baby, or another toddler, or a preschooler, any small-ish kid, he will go up and give them a hug, and try to kiss them. The other parents at The Girl’s school call him “The Hugger.” He gives great kisses, too. Every time I sit on the floor to change his diaper, he has to give me a hug and a cuddle before we’re done. He’s fun to play with, he loves to hear stories, and we’re really starting to have some great conversations. But sometimes, I get this face:











This is the “Damn It Woman! Don’t take another picture of me after you woke me up early from my nap!!!!” face.

And man, this boy has got a sense of humor. He is Exactly. Like. His. Father. He has a very serious side. He has gotten very good at “The Look,” as my family has dubbed it. He got that from me. But he is a huge-ass goofball just like The Hubster. He has us in stitches every night when we sing before bed. Looks like this often get the laughs too:
















And the sweet side. Here is a sweet face:











Seriously. How cute is he? Okay, I should go before I post any more pictures of The Boy. I promise one of these days I’ll do a post of The Girl. Ahh, The Girl. My (younger) twin. My exact copy. She is my soul mate. A sort of Mini Me, if you will.

Goodnight.