Friday, August 15, 2014


Guys.  This child.

just a little breakfast.  while wearing a hard hat.  pouring OJ into cereal.  then eating it.

A two year old boy is a blessed thing.  There are have been glimpses before this moment in parenting that boys are just different than girls, but a two year old boy brings something new to the table.

He's loud.  And gross.  And tough.  And brave.  And likes hitting things.  And stinks.

That's about it.  Sure, he's cute and sweet and my baby, but mostly he's the aforementioned.

When I lose him (daily), I can usually find him either in the garage 'workin' (scratching things with a screwdriver) or in the yard hitting things with a stick.

When we are out *anywhere* he asks EVERYone what their name is.  Except he does it like so:

points his chubby finger at them
makes a loud noise so they *inevitably* pay attention to him
shouts in a deep, mean man voice 'Name?!'

He can say the whole sentence, "what's your name?".  He could/has at home even gone so far as "Hi, I'm Jack, what's your name?" and shake hands!  (Yes, we practice, daily.)  But does he??  Nope.  "Name?!?!"  This has caused me to quietly rename all of Edmond.  When the pointed at person walks off, Jack does not register that the exchange has ended.  He'll just keep asking.  So, I make up names.  Sorry, Edmond.  

He's like a politician....workin' the room.  Recently at church, Dan picked him up from his Sunday school class then carried him the short length of the hall around the corner to the door outside.  By the time they got to the car Dan was chuckling.  No fewer than 6 adults and much older kids had told Jack (by name) goodbye or to have a great day or just a 'what's up jack'.  Six people...none of whom Dan knew or who work in the children's ministry.  He probably had asked them their name.

Older kids like to play with him.  Younger kids are scared of him.

He is OBSESSED with movies.  The watching, the touching of the disc.  The character dolls in stores.  It's a problem.

He weighs as much as the girls.

that bowl of nectarines was for the table.  he dumped them ON TOP of his meal then ate the whole plate.

He wakes up at 6:03am.

He loves diapers and hates toilets.

He's perfect.

When I pray for him, I pray that we parent him as to keep his rugged, rough around the edges, growly boyishness...but refine him to be kind and generous and caring.  That sounds way sweeter than the actual prayer: 'Lord, don't let me beat it out of him.'

I luf him.


  1. I wish we lived near you all still. I am sure Grayson would love a protege.

  2. Oh, they'd have a great time! And there would definitely be stithces...