My boy

This is for me and Brett.

And for Warrick, for later, when he wants to know what he was like as a child.

I know that every parent thinks their kid is the greatest. I'm no exception. I really like my kids. I really enjoy them and still get that same silly giddy every once in a while that I used to feel before a date. Well, before a date with my husband. I've thrown up before dates (and on them) because I was so uncomfortably nervous. It's a very attractive way to get a guy's attention.


So, Warrick turned 2 yesterday. People have been thinking he was 3 already. He's in the 97% for height, not surprisingly. He talks alot. He calms himself down at night by talking to himself, reviewing the things of the day. "Bike ride. Fun. Char-Char. Dustin. Daddad. Miss Teacher."


A couple weekends ago, we had a party for him in the park. His little friends came. We had brunch and Brett and I made a monster truck. Funny that moms usually get the credit for these things, when in reality, I'm usually just the idea behind the work horse. Plus, Brett is much more versed in truck body designs than I. We made it of brownies, cause I thought they might be more maleable if I needed to curve the windshield more, etc....


An aside. I am keeping my concerns about my son's interest in motorcycles (motormichaels) and monster trucks at bay - hoping it is a phase. If it is not something that passes, we may have to make dramatic changes in our health insurance plans, our community of friends and our propensity to take risks and enjoy loud environments. Mercy....


Turns out, I'd never frosted a vertical surface before and found very quickly that I should have read directions. There is a reason the label says, in all caps, "Frost when icing is COOL." Whatever . . . . anyway, he ate it and I enjoyed using marshmellows for lights and chocolate donuts for the giant wheels. Brett had the ingenious idea of using an upside down casserole pyrex dish beneath it, to give the illusion of lift.


I am thankful that Warrick knew what it was.


Enough about that . . . I want to remember Warrick . . . who he is right now. I know that he will change and I will forget - will live only in the present. That someday he'll have body hair and want to hang out with his friends and not me. That singing the alphabet won't be fun anymore. Some things, I'm sure won't change. He'll probably want to play in the dirt for many more years, will still like trucks, still poke his sister. Still throw his clothes on the floor.

Warrick, I really enjoy you. You are funny and silly, even though you don't like to dance - got that from your dad. You are celebrating your ability to do things by your self these days, saying, "NO mama, Self." You know 17 letters of the alphabet by recognition and several words that begin with some of the letters. Thanks to your dad. You like to swim and are not afraid to put your whole face in the water. Last week you started hitting whiffle balls with a plastic bat. You left a welt on my left thigh and my neck. When you miss, you throw the bat on the ground and bend over, with your head on the ground and your bum high in the air and whine as if you are a complete failure. You are not a complete failure, by the way, and I'm not letting you respond like that. "Don't give up! Try again!" It seems you've inherited high expectations of yourself and a healthy dose of competitiveness - double whammy mom and dad.
You love all things with wheels and like to lay on the floor and closely watch the "wheels moving!"
You love your little sister and giggle at her little noises. You've really turned a corner with your gentleness towards her and understand very well what appropriate behavior towards her looks like. "Hold her baby!" and "Tackle her baby!" which, thankfully means, "mom, lay the baby on my tummy." and not "I'm going to smash her". You laugh, but that is what you used to do just one month ago. You do still steal her "night" even when she's crying, although sometimes you do emphatically shove it in her mouth too. If you find one lying around you'll sneak off with it for a quick moment of dreaminess. If you know I've seen you, you immediately begin the negotiation, "Few minutes. One more minute." Begging with your eyes and being oh so convincing.
You love Veggie Tales.
You love the story of Daniel and Noah.
You poop on the toilet very consistently now and tell us when you need to go.
You are in love with our neighbor, Jen. I think she's in love with you too. She bought you a firetruck for your birthday and got you a cubs shirt when she went to Chicago. I'm nervous for the day when you can really open doors because I know you'll eagerly let yourself in next door.
I caught you straddling the top of your crib the other day saying, "get down!"
You talk about your friends, even when they aren't around and love your aunties.
You learned to gallop like a horsie the other day and are very very proud of yourself.
You are still sparkly and enjoy connecting with people, even strangers. You have been like this since you were tiny - wiggling to get people's attention while your eyes were glued to them. I remember several times when you actually made grown adults blush as they were uncomfortable with the intensity of your stare. You have also made many lonely people smile - people that sometimes really get overlooked. Like the baggers at the grocery store and the guy that empties our trash into the truck in our alley every Monday. He looks for you now and waves.
Lots of people love you. Your Sunday school teachers told me they were dreading your third birthday when you would move upstairs to big kid church. "We like all our kids, but some just have a special place in our hearts. Warrick's one of them."
You love going on bike rides with your dad.
You love to "drive car!" I let you sit in the driver's seat and push all the buttons and turn the dials. I can't believe that only once have I woke to a dead battery because you left the lights on.
Your current mantra is not surprising, "Go outside now. Go outside now. Go outside NNNOOOOOWWWWW!"
You like to cuddle, but not for too long and would definitely prefer a tackle and a tickle. You do really like pillows.
You've become quite a picky eater and mostly just can't be bothered to sit still long enough to finish a decent meal. You do however, without fail, love your avocado. You told me the other day "Don't like it cheese yogurt." Hmmm, that's why you don't eat it well. You also said, as we were packing up to go to small group the other night. "Don't like it Wyatt's house. Stay home." We asked if you liked Wyatt and without hesitation said, "yeah!"
This morning, you told Katie that she was "Too big bottom" and walked around behind her pointing at her backside. Thankfully, Katie is very slender and understood that you were saying she wouldn't fit in our stroller.
For the first time in a long time, you did not get a timeout at the YMCA on Monday for hitting and pushing. I was so proud.
You still say, "BAD BAD BUG."
You like to "shoot hoops" with dad.
I caught you Wednesday morning with a worm in your mouth. In the house, while you were still in your pajamas and before any of us had been outside. Not an earthworm. The gross white ones with black heads and poky little claw feet. Wanted to throw up. Where, pray tell, did you find it?
I hope you always are convinced of and always legitimately feel loved and liked and enjoyed by your dad and me. You are the source of so much of our laughter and joy. We thank God for letting us have you in our family.