Man, I love a toddler.

Especially mine.

I just saw sweet little hands uncurl around a big lava rock, a pile of colored rubber bands, and a broken piece of a sparkly geode as he left his treasures on the counter in order to grasp a water cup with both hands.

I leave drinking cups on the counter for the big boys, and Emmett always has to drink out of them both. “I firsty,” and he holds up a hand. Drinks long. Puts the cup back. “I firsty,” and he holds up his hand for the other cup, too.

He loves to say “chicken,” and his two favorite uses are “poopy chicken” and “chicken house.” He said “poopy chicken” out loud at least four times during his Aunt Nikki's graduation, but hopefully no one was able to decipher it.

That aside, he’s very polite. Help him with something, and he’s sure to say “tanks” at least twice, if not three times. When I pray with him at bedtime, he says, “Thank you, Mom,” only it’s so fast and clipped that it sounds like “Tay tu, Mom.” When he wants something and is afraid of not getting it, he says, “Peas, peas, peas!”

He loves to copy his brothers in the things they do and say, and the other day when we were in the car, he was mimicking literally everything they said. He gets goofy right alongside them, and there is so much hooting and hollering and laughing. ...continue reading →