I absolutely cannot get enough of this little bear cub lately.
Some time last week, I was about to write another post about thanking God I was watching my weight because I was about to eat my own young & how the “Terrible Two’s” are a lie to make you think that you’re doing an awesome job as a parent because two ain’t so bad but almost-three-years-old? That is the devil’s playground. Almost-three is a weapon of mass destruction upon your living room & heart & REM cycle.
Almost-three brings this amazing ability for him to love me & not because I bring the food, but because I’m me & isn’t it awesome to just be loved because you’re…well, you? I sing silly songs & he joins along & sometimes we sing “Kumbaya” but instead of saying “My Lord,” we say things like “My blanket!” & he thinks it’s amazing. The other day he told me that he had a “good attitude” & then asked for marshmallows & I took out one mini one as a reward for going potty & he holds up five fingers & says “Two ones, please?” I couldn’t help it, I gave him two just because he’s blonde & cute & mine. Then it’s awesome when he crawls in bed at 6am & snuggles up to me, rubbing his feet together with a wee smile & I think it can’t get any better, this little boy snoozing between me & the man I love.