Monday, November 14, 2011

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Yesterday was the Primary Program at church.

I'm the CTR 4 teacher (that's the Sunday School teacher for the 4 year olds in my congregation for those of y'all who don't speak Mormon), so that meant that, after the (cute!) program was over, my Sunday was full of delegating popcorn and cookies, refilling water, listening to tambourines, taking seven four-year-olds on a nature walk, and teaching said four-year-olds how to make leaf drawings. I also had to stop a few little spats and wipe up some tears but, after teaching my little bugs for four months, I've gotten really good at that.

And after church?
Well, to be totally honest, I let the kitchen pile up and watched wayyyyy too many episodes of Bones, but right after we got back from church, Andrew and I watched our little hoodlum take to the streets:

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Honestly, is there anything cuter than a blonde sixteen month old in a black zip up hoodie, shiny black shoes, dark jeans, and a crisp white button-up? Love him and his dreamy father. And yes, Mr. C. is fake handcuffing our little Pumpkin Eater for loitering by a "No Parking" sign.

Oh, you didn't know that I call my little son Pumpkin Eater? I also call him Pumpkin Juice, Turtle Monster, Sweetie Pie, Little Love, and Snuggle Friend. But! Don't judge me too quickly because, when he was littler, I used to call him Jabba (behind Andrew's back), Li'l Bit, and Turtle Monkey... even though Andrew's called him Hero, Little Dude, and Boogers since the day he was born. Sometimes I use those, too, but mostly I just call him any version of Pumpkin I can come up with.

That boy. He makes our world go round.

ps. You'll notice that I wrote that our son is sixteen months, which means I have baby fever bad. Seriously. Do you realize how long it takes a baby to grow from a sweet little blob into a talkative little toddler? Cause it happens quicker than a blink and, my soul, whenever I pass by baby clothes or have to take away a baby toy that Napoleon has somehow gotten ahold of (he loves rattles and pacifiers, too), my heart aches a little. I love me some babies, which probably isn't the best way to be when you're half of a go-after-your-dreams couple since going after your dreams means committing yourself to a life tightroping the poverty line until you're in your mid thirties but whatev. Babies have always been part of our dreams so, hopefully, we'll have one coming in the next year of so... cause we would both really like one.

That probably wasn't kosher to write on my blog since my mom is no longer the only person who reads this but whatev. Just don't start scrutinizing my stomach for a baby bump because, after gaining a whoppin' fifty pregnancy pounds, I'm finally thin again and it is nice. So! Ignore any food babies and/or bad angles you may see on me cause, for now, that's all they are. Especially in the Thanksgiving posts next week. Cause what's Thanksgiving without a food baby? A hungry Thanksgiving? Probably.