I was musing to Chris the other day that these may be the trenches with sparing moments of peace, but this is also a pleasant and peaceful time in our life when we aren't living according to school schedules and sport schedules and the like. I dream about having older children, but I'm realizing I'm not ready for them. I want to hug this loud yet slow time something fierce ... most of the time, of course.
Here are some of my favorite things that I would be sad to forget about this spring when our oldest is only three.
When we finish something up, I say, "Okay, I'm going to count to ten and then we are all done." Ryan always protests, "No! Count to five!"
We ask Conor where his eyes are, and he sticks his finger up his nose, smiles and says, "Eyes! Eyes! Eyes!"
Conor used to say, "Buuuh-bee!" for baby, and I already miss it.
It's rare that Ryan can climb into the car without shouting, "Wait! Can I pick you a flower?!"
When Conor can tell I'm kind of feeling blah or that he might be in trouble, he'll scrunch his face up and repeat, "What?! What?!" He knows I think it's funny, but he doesn't know what he is saying.
Conor's version of jumping is basically doing a vigorous squat.
Ryan's excuse as of late is, "I'm just really exhausted." Sounds like he has lived around a first trimester mother.
Conor points to my knee and chest, "Babyyyyy!" And my chest. And his potbelly, too.
Whenever we see an airplane up high in the sky, Conor shorts, "Ay-pay!" and Ryan guesses, "Look mom, that airplane is taking someone to see family!"
If Ryan talks about me to Chris, he'll declare, "Dad, MY mom said ..." or vice versa. If he really wants our attention, he knows to up the ante to bellowing, "KATWINA WOSE!" or "CHRISTOPHER BWAKE!"
I've mentioned multiple times that the combination of Conor's temper and his volume is quite astounding, and that this book was one of the boys' Easter presents that we've read numerous times in preparation for the arrival of our August Baby. Now when I'm asking Conor for the eleventh time to stop screaming, Ryan objects exasperatedly, "Mom, Conor is cwying because that's how babies talk and let us know what they want!"