|My lil leprechauns on St. Paddy's Day|
|Notice the forehead bruise. Also, for more photos of Oliver in boxes, follow me on Instagram.|
|Doing voices. Mom of the Year!|
When I first started writing this blog, Ethan couldn't talk. Now not only does he talk with an uncanny and sometimes disconcerting vocabulary, he even formulates and executes his own pranks, the latest of which I like to call "Look at My Butt." In which he asks me to look at his butt, and I naturally do because I'm a concerned mom who's all "What's wrong with your butt?!?!" Then he literally farts directly in my face.
|Both napping? This is the definition of The Best.|
It feels like two weeks ago I posted my tips about [redacted: rhymes with tips; punny], a primer on breast feeding. And now Oliver...is still breast feeding, because he's a comfort nurser and a late teether. But he's also doing things like running around, climbing on everything, throwing overhand (baseballs, my phone), generally inducing near-heart failure in me daily. Oh! He also throws tantrums: rapid stomping, limp-arm flailing, squawking, screeching. He has Opinions, which is a real shame if you ask me.
|Because why not.|
|At the coolest dentist office ever.|
|They're plotting, I can tell.|
Yesterday, a rainy rainy day, I was opening the blinds and noticed Ethan's rubber boots splayed in the street just beyond our driveway. A brief line of inquiry led to the discovery that instead of bringing in his boots like he was asked, he placed them on the bumper of Noah's truck and kept playing. He also placed his semi-new light-up Spider-Man shoes back there.
Long story short, Noah found both shoes, several miles apart, a few miles from home. One appeared to have been run over. Although still more than wearable, one of Spider-Man's eyes was cracked and lights up nonstop now.
"It's male-funk-etching," Ethan noted.
|That time he literally almost passed out when a loose tooth started bleeding.|
"Next time if I disobey," he stated, "I'll put them in the trunk."