Friday, May 6, 2011


Boys. . .

Boys throw everything like it's a baseball. I have injuries from sippy cups, toys, food hurled at like 100 mph. Ouch.

Boys sometimes like dolls. It means he will be a good Daddy right? It's pretty cute to see Henry walking around the house with a baby on his shoulder and that sweet little hand patting the baby's back. I swear he plays with Rhiannon's dolls more than she does.

Boys are sneaky. They know if they continue to throw "B" from the crib and cry for "B" that Mommy will come back in the room to save "B". Any there is always hope that Mommy will then pick baby boy up and snuggle him some more.

Boys are leaky. How do they pee this much? How big of a diaper do I need to buy? And how can you sleep that wet? And why are you so happy in the morning even when your pajamas are soaked? And why do you pee in the bathtub? Every. Single. Night. Your sister is OVER it.

Boys do not wean themselves. My girl did. My boy? Not a chance. But Mommy got bit again last week. And there was blood involved. So my little vampire got cut off. Sorry little dude. But I think 14 months is enough.

Boys like lawn mowers and tractors. And are obsessed with riding them with Grandfathers and Daddys.

Boys love their sisters. Rhiannon now comes and wakes me up in the morning "Mommy, let's go get Henry!" Now when we go in Henry's room, I'm no longer greated with "Mama, Mama!". Now it's "Ree Ree! Ree Ree!" with outstretched arms for his big sister.

My boy is now 14 months old. And I still have a whole to learn. About boys. Lord help me.

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