Often there are little things that the boys say or do that I think I will find time to write about. It doesn't always happen. Here are some of the better highlights from the last few weeks.
"It's cute-i-ful!" My four-year old has apparently combined the words cute and beautiful and made up his own new word. So last week when we were out shopping with Mommy's birthday money for a new swimsuit and summer sundress, he was in the dressing room with me. I would try something on and ask him what he thought. It was either "It's cute-i-ful!" or "No, I no like that."
"Mean Girls!" My four-year old's favorite anthem is apparently this song by country duo Sugarland. He doesn't know all of the words, but he certainly knows the chorus and sings along loudly (at the appropriate times, even) whenever the song comes up in my truck (it's one of our CDs). When you ask him what kind of music he likes, he's more than likely going to tell you "Mean Girls!" and sort of sing it rather than actually say it. Kind of cute.
As a three-year old, you obviously have very little embarrassment. Or at least my boys don't seem to. One day a few weeks ago, I was in the car pool line at preschool, waiting on the little guys. Xander came out first, which is rare, as his teacher holds him in the classroom until she sees our truck. Neither one of our boys do well with waiting for Mommy to move up in line. So I wonder what happened to Sawyer, who can usually be found waiting rather impatiently at the gate with the teachers. Apparently he had a little potty accident, because he soon came out walking in his tennis shoes with just a pull-up and a t-shirt. And he couldn't have cared less. If only we all cared so little!
Connor is notorious for running full speed at all times. He often has so much energy it feels like he's just running in circles in the house. (Just don't ask him to take Buster for a walk, or you'll hear "Shew, I tired!"). He also tends to be a bit careless. He runs into things, often because he's too busy seeing who's watching instead of looking where he's going. And he's actually learned Mommy's standard response, which is to simply "Be more careful!" The other day he was running around and slid across the laminate wood floors. He got right up, looked at me with an exasperated face, and said "I know, I be more careful!"
Most of the time, Connor is in a hurry to get bigger. Whether it's to play t-ball (actually baseball now, but Connor doesn't get that yet) like his big cousin Austin or to go to the big kids' school that we drive past every day on our way to preschool. He's always telling me that "I do that when I get a lil' bit bigger!" Like all of us, I suppose, in a hurry to move on to bigger and better things. But the other day he did a total reverse on me, and I couldn't help but laugh. The little guys have digestive issues, which means they get a laxative added to their juice every few days. It's a white powder that looks kind of like sugar. Connor always watches me as I'm pouring it in, and one day said very solemnly, "I have that I get a lil' smaller. One day I be smaller." Of all things to go back for, kid, that's not one of them!
One of the new signs that we've learned this year is the one for "wait," which the teachers use often and our kids certainly need. My boys are masters at using signs with sarcasm (and I can't imagine where they would get that trait from). They have long had their very own angry sign, which is essentially a short, hard clap with an accompanying short, hard sound. It seems the equivalent of a teenager mouthing off. Well, my little Sawyer, who doesn't usually even do the signs himself (he's far more likely to take your hands and make the sign with them), was taking a walk with one of his teachers down the hallway. They were getting close to the classroom when he decided he wasn't ready to go back just yet. So he stopped in his tracks and signed "wait" to the teacher, proceeding to go back in the other direction. He liked his one-on-one time much better, thank you.
And last, but not least, my stubborn little twin. You know, the one who can and sometimes does use real words but does not do so consistently. Well, the other night he was apparently too tired to remember that he doesn't speak to us. He was the first to get sleepy, so I carried him upstairs to give him a bath and get him into his pajamas. As he was laying there on the floor for his pajamas, he started rubbing his eyes. I said, "Poor baby, Xander's tired. Ready for night-night." He stopped rubbing his eyes, climbed up in to my lap and said, "Nye-nye."
