BR is at that magical age. Always into trouble, never listens to me or his dad, aggressive toward his sisters, and entertained by the littlest thing. That last part is probably the most fun, for me. It means that books called "Trucking" or "I love trucks" are his favorite. Never anything too complex. Here's the first, and last, line of the book: "Trucks, trucks, trucks. I love trucks."
He walks around saying that about everything now: "Shoes, shoes, shoes. I love shoes."
"Mommy, mommy, mommy. I love mommy."
He really does love trucks and pushes the one I bought L. at a garage sale back in Chicago, oh so long ago, around and around and around. He calls all trucks "yucky trucks." We're not really sure why, but usually it's accurate, I guess.
And then yesterday he told me what he wants to be for Halloween. You guessed it: a truck.
He walks around saying that about everything now: "Shoes, shoes, shoes. I love shoes."
"Mommy, mommy, mommy. I love mommy."
He really does love trucks and pushes the one I bought L. at a garage sale back in Chicago, oh so long ago, around and around and around. He calls all trucks "yucky trucks." We're not really sure why, but usually it's accurate, I guess.
And then yesterday he told me what he wants to be for Halloween. You guessed it: a truck.
(BR with his beloved firetruck puzzle.)
1 comment:
Is it really Halloween already? Wow... Time flies.
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