For the most part, when it comes to my kids I hate to say: “Oh, he always does this” or “She never does that!” I usually find that if I announce Emmy has been sleeping through the night, she’ll endlessly wake up that evening. Or if I say Christopher never acts out in Target, he’ll throw himself onto the ground of the women’s underwear aisle during our next visit.
However, the following things are just general truths about the family:
Emmy can never be trusted with food directly in front of her. If you give her five raspberry bites, she’ll stuff each bite into her mouth without bothering to chew.
Christopher would rather dress up as a cowboy than do just about anything else in the world. His buddy Easton has the hat, boots, a little horse to bounce on – all the basics C needs. And everyday, Chris begs to go to Easton’s house to be a cowboy.
Johnny suffers through my long list of tv shows, but I think he actually likes So You Think You Can Dance. Don’t get me wrong, he’d rather watch Forensic Files than a dance competition – but he never complains when SYTYCD is on the tv (he does, however, leave the room at the mere mention of Vampire Diaries).
We don’t need a sweeper, we have Emmy. Whether it is a teeny, tiny crumb, a hair tie, or a loose bolt on the ground – Emmy will find it (and then try to eat it).
If I have even one minute of downtime, I turn into a slovenly, lazy, exhausted lump on the couch. I always have a long list of things to do – and am always desperate for a minute where the kids don’t need me so I can mark things off the list – but the second they don’t need me, I sit down on the couch to “think” about my list before I get started on it.
The louder Christopher screams “I AM NOT TIRED!” the more tired he actually is. My sweet boy thinks he is too big for naps…
Like my mother before me, I have a serious weakness for tiny pink clothing. OK FINE, I have the same weakness for tiny blue clothes. (I have no picture for this one, I can’t provide Johnny with photographic evidence of my obsession…)
Chris will pee any and everywhere. I know I have said it before – but seriously, he pees EVERYWHERE. At the entrance to Colts Training Practice, Fishers Summer Concert, a baseball clinic at Holland Park, any parking lot, our driveway, our front porch, the grass, the bottom of a tree… I blame Johnny.