Big Brother

We are literally just a few weeks away from the birth of Super Cop's and Mrs. Scrubs' new baby.  Woopee!  I love having babies in the family that I don't have to raise.  We did some maternity pictures Saturday, and what I love most is how delightfully happy and unaware Special Delivery is of his impending sibling-hood.   He knows something's coming.  He's just not big enough to fully understand it.  But because we all seem excited about it, he's rolling with it, too.  Too cute.

Twiddle de de, Look Who's Three!

I have no idea where the last three years have gone, but I turned around the other day and Special Delivery was having his third birthday.  Great Googly Moogly!

And while he seems to be growing up right before my eyes, that is not facial hair around his mouth folks, just blue frosting.

Look Ma, No Wheels!

We got a little Special Delivery time during Thanksgiving, and that boy is growin' like a weed in sunshine. He's big enough to get into all sorts of things now, and he likes to play, play, play.




And he's proof that one of the best toys for children (and grandmas) is still a cardboard box.

Minnie Me

When I say Special Delivery is the spittin' image of Super Cop, I'm not joking. Like father:

Like son:

Well, except for the 1970's v-neck shirt. Thankfully, fashion genes aren't necessarily inherited. If they were I'd likely have elastic waist pants in my future.

Look Who's Two!

We celebrated Special Delivery’s birthday this past weekend. I can’t believe he’s two years old. (Insert Old Fart voice here.) Where does the time go?

I’m proud to say he apparently shares his Aunt Hula’s love of cake.

Although I can’t remember ever stealing any off of someone else’s place. When she was watching.
Special Delivery is the spittin’ image of his daddy at this age, except Super Cop had red hair.

And can I just say that since Hubby and I are pretty far down the pike in the child rearin’ business, it’s terribly fun to watch Super Cop deal with the joys and frustrations of living with a toddler. Sorry, it’s the big sister comin’ out in me.

Oh, and if I had cheeks this cute, I’d smile too.

Hoppin' Down The Bunny Trail

Guess who came to our house during the Easter weekend. It wasn’t the Easter Bunny, but it was someone with rabbit like energy. Just the cutest toddler on the planet.

Special Delivery is seventeen months old, and he doesn’t walk. He runs. He’s everywhere. He’s a pilferer and a climber, and he’s either way ahead of you or trying to get somewhere.

He’s literally into everything, and you shouldn’t turn your back on him ‘cause he’ll do things like stand on the kitchen table and hurl the pepper shaker across the room. Or open the oven door and stand on it. (Thank goodness the stove wasn’t on that day.)

The little stinker is so cute you can’t help but laugh.

Well, maybe it’s easier to laugh when you’re not the parent and you’re just a relative who wants to spoil him rotten. I had to tie plastic Wal-mart sacks around the handles to keep him out of the kitchen cabinets Friday evening.

Yep, he’s at that “busy” stage, and between his rapid movements and the impending sunset I had a terrible time getting a sharply focused picture of him. (Note to self: work on shutter speed.) The little stinker is so cute you can’t help but laugh. Well, maybe it’s easier to laugh when you’re not the parent and just a relative who wants to spoil him rotten. All of those times when Teen Angel was little and Super Cop would laugh because Hubby and I didn’t know what we were doing? It’s all comin’ back to haunt him now, and I can’t help but laugh. From this point forward, the terms “Special Delivery” and “Wiggle Britches” shall be used synonymously on this blog. I don’t know what’s more fun, watching Wiggle Britches run or watching Super Cop chase him. One thing’s for sure. I won’t be dishing out any meaningful discipline on the little guy when he’s at my house. In fact, he and I have a deal. I won’t tell about the Tupperware he dragged into my bathroom and he won’t tell about that chocolate pie his Aunt Hula fed him right before he went home and went to bed.

Don't Tell Mama I Said This But....

Every time I look at this picture of her and Special Delivery

I think of this scene from Forrest Gump:And then I walk around all day trying to work into conversation, "We wus like peas and carrots."

Christmas Peek-A-Boo

I swear, that boy could eat a live toad and we would think it's cute.

Can You Tell I Didn't Have Internet During The Past Few Days?

Whew! What a crazy week. It feels as if I’ve been away from blogland forever. I hope to be back to visiting your blogs soon, my friends. Goodness knows if I miss very many episodes of The Jason Show, I miss a lot of excitement. He’s the only person I know with a family more lively than mine.

We continued to sort and unpack and put things into place at the new house, and we celebrated Thanksgiving on Thursday AND Saturday. Thursday was a quiet meal at a restaurant with Hubby’s parents, and Saturday was the traditional all you can eat turkey-ham fest at Mama’s and Daddy’s house. Don’t tell my peeps, but I’ll be serving them turkey pot pie tomorrow night. That should wrap up the leftovers, except for the dressing, but I froze that to layer onto a rolled up turkey breast in a few weeks, so I can use up that turkey breast I’ve had sitting in the freezer since that sale at Kroger. They won’t remember where that dressing came from by January. Ah, the games we play in order to feed our families something other than the same old thing.

Saturday was an opportunity to play at length with Special Delivery. He is growin’ like a weed and is running, so he’s into everything now. You know, that part is fun when it’s not your child you have to chase 24/7. It gave me an opportunity to reflect on how far we’ve come in our healing over Sissy’s death and to remember how lucky we are. It also produced my newest favorite picture which Teen Angel took while trying to figure out how to work my camera.

Not bad for a first effort. Not bad at all.

Hooray, Hooray, Somebody Had a Birthday!

Guess who turned one last week, and guess who learned how to eat birthday cake? In fact, Special Delivery figured out what Hula has known for years, cake is a mighty good thing. He dove right in and didn’t come up for air until it was gone…each and every crumb.

Special Delivery’s Rules for eating cake:

First you touch it. And gently remove the candle and gaze at it longingly.
Then you smell it.
And then you taste it and say, “Mmmmmm.” And if it’s good, you cram a fistful into your mouth and proceed to gum it to death.
And give your aunt the “Wuh?” look when she laughs out loud.
While you poke in bite.
After bite.
After bite.
Of ooey, gooey cake and frosting. Ah, frosting. Manna from heaven.
It’s nice to offer to share a bite with your cousin too.
And when you’re finished and your belly is tight as a tick, and your face is covered in butter cream.
You get a nice warm bath. And if your aunt does something funny you show her your four little Chiclet teeth.

Look Who's Talking!

Special Delivery is jabbering up a storm. He says “ma-ma”, “da-da”, “bye-bye” and in a very good imitation of his father, “yeah, yeah, yeah”.
And he loves to blow bubbles and raspberries.
REALLY loves to blow them.
He does this funny clicking thing with his tongue.
And look at those two teeth.
They will chew up a cheese quesadilla like a beaver gnawing wood.
He’s walking, too, taking three or four steps at a time. In no time at all, he should be climbing on top of the refrigerator. Or at least turning over the dog bowls.

He hasn’t given up naps yet.
He likes to give you kisses, and he still enjoys a good tickle.
Have I mentioned how fun it is to spoil him rotten and hand him back when the dirty diapers roll around?