Attack of the Giant Baby and his Threenager Sidekick
February 17, 2015
We’ve had a crazy busy past few weeks with Hutton’s birthday, the mister’s busy season (February is prime corndog season, if you didn’t know), a solo trip to Nashville to hang with some awesome college kids, some first trimester bleh-ness, and, of course, the mid-season return of Suits. Love me some Mike. And Harvey. Marvey? Moving on.
Remember when I used to write letters to Beckett on big milestones? Poor Hutton. I have yet to do that. I do, however, find time to make this series of slow motion videos entitled, “ATTACK OF THE GIANT BABY”.
Surely he’ll appreciate those efforts just as much.
I mean honestly I know he’s my kid and all, but sometimes I don’t have words for how delightful I find him. Sometimes when I open my mouth to tell Taylor about a cute thing he did during the day, normal adult words don’t come out. My face and throat just sort of spaz out and make unintelligible squeals and kissy sounds instead.
Is that normal?
Don’t answer that.
The Best of the Threenager
The Beck man is now almost 3 1/2. The days of being a straight up threenager with an attitude are becoming fewer and farther between, and I’m starting to get glimpses of how blissful the 4’s are.
Within in the past several weeks, the dude has been hysterical. Such a great mix of humiliating (yelling “HAHAHA HE LOOKS LIKE A GIRL!” at the pony-tailed Arby’s employee, moments before he spit in our lunch) and sweet (“Did God put a baby in your belly because he knew I needed a sister?” Yes. Well, maybe. 50% chance.) and disgusting (“Hey, mom….I just peed in your bed.”).
The more social sites I’m on, the more segregated the stories become. A quip here, story there, photos everywhere.
So, in an effort to consolidate for documentation purposes, my favorite/funniest Beckett moments of 2015 so far:
1. Going downstairs to tell his great-grandpa that dinner was ready.
Beckett: Hey, Papa, dinner is ready. You can come upstairs.
Papa: Ok, I’m just going to finish up here and I’ll be right there.
Beckett: Ok. *walks around the corner briefly and returns* Hey Papa? *holds up 2 fingers* 2 minutes.
2. Telling me, “If you go to heaven before me, it’s ok. I’ll be brave.”
3. This. 4. Yesterday when we shared a cup of coffee like the old souls we aren’t.
“Hey mommy we should probably have some nice, warm coffee this morning.” No argument here, my man. A photo posted by Sarah Brooks (@sarahbrooks13) on
5. The never ending rendition of Bingo sung around these parts that goes a little like this:
“There was a savior who had a dog and Bingo was his name-o! J-E-N-U-N, J-E-N-U-N, J-E-N-U-N, and Bingo was his name-o!”
The classic mainstream-turned-Jesus song hijack. It gets very confusing.
The point is, threenagers can be quite funny. And surprisingly poignant. And gross. (I had 3 different boogers gifted to me before 10am yesterday, but that’s neither here nor there.) And sometimes exhausting.
But – my goodness – are they entertaining. I think I’ll keep mine.
And, as mentioned earlier, Hutt man is now 1. Until I get around to posting about his festivities, please enjoy the cutest picture ever of both the giant baby and the threenager.
Thank you and goodbye for now.