my baby boy is six.
and yes, i know he is not a baby anymore but DON'T RUSH ME.
when you've done this pareting thing with one child for a while, you feel prepared enough to have another.
how different can they be, amiright?
well, nothing in this world could have prepared me for parenting this child.
he flipped life on it's lid and made each day an adventure, infinitely more fun, and had me scratching my head trying to figure out daily how to best parent his sweet spirit.
he was born with mischief in his eyes. see? they glimmer.
a couple of years ago he told us he wanted to grow up to be a boy cheerleader.
not long after that, he decided to become a really strong clown that jumped through hoops of fire when he got older.
around that same time, he let us know that when he was older he wanted to ride a motorcycle, get tattoos and grow a beard down to his balls.
his words, not mine.
he has a lifelong curiosity to find out what is on the inside of things.
he deconsructs objects. cuts them open, until he can see the inside.
he loves science and art. anything that involves paint, water, slime, glue, clay. the messier the project, the better.
he is a collector of small things.
once he kept all of his plastic drinkable yogurt containers because he couldn't bear to throw them out.
once the collection was large enough, we had to start keeping the rinsed out bottles in target sacks.
somewhere in our house lies his collection of cicada shells in a gallon sized zip-lock. gross.
he loves big and physically. he plays rough and hugs hard.
he is independent and fierce, yet anxious and fragile at times. persuading him is next to impossible (taurus).
he is ridiculously funny. we are constantly laughing over something he said or did.
he's a lap-sitter and a hand-holder and holds my heart with both of his.
i hope he never changes.