Thursday, April 10, 2008
Last week I posted about what have I learned about myself since having J. This week, I'm posting about what I have learned about J . . . (written to J since I am going to transfer this into the journal that I have seriously been neglecting).
1. You love sweet potatoes. I mean LOVE them. With each and every bite you let out a grunt of pleasure that is really cute . . . unless we are at a restaurant.
2. You are a flirt. A big flirt. A huge flirt. You see a cute chick and you are all smiles. You bat your little eyes and they are putty in your hands. I'm certain there is a way I could make money off this. Mind control, maybe?
3. You only know one real word--"Cagawahacaga" (how many of you tried to pronounce this?). There are many variations, but none of them sound like "mama." Yet.
4. You have OCD. You can do the same thing over and over and over and over again. For instance. I open the little green door on your musical activity table and you MUST close it . . . over and over and over and over again. I'm pretty sure we could do that for HOURS.
5. You like squeezing things. Especially mom's chubby rolls--which are your fault, btw.
6. You definitely have my arched eyebrow, but because you have two, you look like Jack Nicholson--which makes me think you are always up to no good. And if I smell ya, you usually are.
7. People told me, warned me (it was Mr. Lady who said, "Are you prepared for the whole new level of POOP? Seriously?"). Yeah. No. I wasn't. That Diaper Champ will never be the same.
8. You actually can cop and attitude. It is a mean one . . . Mr. Grinch. You MUST have things your way, OR ELSE. Well, get this, little man . . . I'm still bigger than you!
9. Happy hour with you begins around 5. During that time, we must do all we can to keep you HAPPY. Daddy and mommy secretly begin the countdown until bedtime . . .
10. Dressing you is like dressing an Octopus on speed.
11. Changing your diaper is like dressing an Octopus on speed while avoiding the bullets of an enemy sniper.
12. You love music . . . especially the kind that daddy sings when he fluffs out his hair, grabs the broom, and rocks to some 80s tune. Which he. Did. Today. Much to mommy's dismay . . .
13. Your laugh . . . it kills me. It swells up my heart until is damn near explodes.
You bring me such joy, my little man. Happy 8th month birthday!
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