Max is such a stinker and the closer he gets to two, the more ridiculously large his personality becomes. Yesterday morning, his stinkerness kept rising higher and higher in the usual fashion- covering a chair in chalk, screaming at the sight of the toothbrush, pulling out (and trying on) all of my shoes and throwing his unwanted breakfast down to the dog. Then, when I reprimanded him for doing something naughty- I don't even remember what it was anymore- he looked me straight in the eye and said this:
"What if I want to?"
(baby voice and lisp included)
That boy. He is a crazy. I can't even keep bandaids on him when he scuffs up his knees every other day. He just pulls them off and "oohs!" at the blood and then squeals for a new bandaid to be put on his arm or hand or shirt. Then, when he's done, he begs to be let outside or, if we're already outside, he yells for his football or baseball or soccer ball or basketball. He may look like a Chandler, but he may prove to be the most sporty Bogart boy who has ever graced the South. And that, my friends, is a serious challenge.
Thank goodness for amazing weather and the half a dozen large parks living in Fayetteville's city limits. Once summer's here, they are already going to be tired of us... and I'm okay with that. We're going to use these parks so hard the next few months that once summer ends and the new baby comes, those parks will be beside themselves with grief from missing my twenty-seven pound boy. I mean, have you ever seen a more lovable face?
I didn't think so.