The Griff

There are some things about our Goofy 3.5 year old that must be chronicled.

Do not eat the cookies he decorates. You have been warned.

The child cannot be trusted around frosting. Or sweets of any kind. This holiday season he took to sneaking a candy cane off the tree and disappearing downstairs for a few moments to hastily cram the forbidden fruit into his mouth.

Of course, the moment he came back upstairs his sticky face and hands would betray his crime. Also, he would confess without even being asked a question. Do not tell him your secrets.

Too bad for him I won't actually let him play football while he's on our health insurance plan.

The child is silly. Like, seriously silly. Always. He has an overactive imagination that, on the one hand gives us this great game of Mama & Baby Penguin (explained below), but on the other hand contributes to his frequent nightmares and deep fear of the dark.

Mama & Baby Penguin
In this game (or reenactment, call it what you will), G rushes straight to his bed after his bath and curls up in a ball with his towel covering him. I come in and envelop him until he's ready to "hatch" and then he pops out of his "egg" and says "Hi Mama Penguin!" At which point I can now dry him off and he can put on his pajamas. This happens every night at our house and is partially based off of a book the kids have called A Penguin Pup for Pinkerton.

Mama's Boy, 1,000%

Griffin loves his Daddy, even though Bryan jokes that he's the last man on the totem pole with his son. But Bubby looooooooooooves his Mama. And I used to find that a smidgen frustrating when he was smaller and needier. But I no longer feel that way.

One day the scales will tip back. Mama is no good at throwing baseballs or playing tackle/tickle (his favorite game to play with Bryan), so I will take my dozens of kisses a day now and hopefully save the sweet memory of them until, many many many many many years from now, I get a grandchild who will love me with the same unconditional fervor. (Or a niece/nephew - hint hint Nic).

Speaking of kisses, G has taken to counting our kisses. I usually get 10 at a time. I think it's because he loves counting. LOVES. He counts everything.

I get flowers at least once a week.

If there is a flower on the grass, Griffin will pick it and give it to me. Without fail. Often, on the way home from school with the babysitter, he'll pick a few pretty weeds and have them in a cup of water waiting for me when I get home.

It is adorable. It is heart melting. It is awesome.

Little boys can be messy, dirty, and smelly. They can play rough. They often forget their own strength. They are quickly swayed by their emotions.

They are also sweet. And kind. And loving.

Because really? All kids are those things.