He's crazy. He's fun. He's funny. He's smart. He's definitely a boy.
He just told his dad that "I love you just as much as you love me!"
He changes his shirt four times or more a day. Or he doesn't wear a shirt at all because it's summer and he gets hot.
He has no trouble keeping up with his sisters and antagonizing them to tears. But to his credit, they let him.
He is still totally powerless against the power of babywearing.
He struts. He tells his mom and dad not to fight. He loves his grandparents. His best friend is the neighbor boy.
He uses words like gigantic, delicious, incredible, and humongous.
The nursery is still evil. And he has no desire to go to preschool.
He loves blue and "lellow."
He is excited to go to the radio this weekend, but really it's the rodeo. And when daddy is working to get him to sleep at night, he wants the rodeo on. Except that's really the radio.
He constantly rides the arms of the living room furniture. And constantly gets bucked off. But he gets back on, which is good.
He introduces himself to cute little pig-tailed girls with an enthusiastic, "I'm Carsten the Cowboy!"
He's my boy.
He's my cowboy.
I hope we survive it.