The day dinos came to dinner

I like to think that my kids are "all boy."  And from what I hear, most people would agree.  Jack's most frequently used word lately has been "football", followed closely by "ow" and "boo boo."  He certainly plows through the house, diving over babies and furniture, as if he's about to score a touchdown.  And then there's the injuries.  The other night he elected to jump off of the recliner and onto the floor.  Unfortunately, the corner of the brick fireplace ended up between him and his destination.  But the big ole' bump it left on his head was nothing compared to the battle wound he received the day before, when he did a faceplant on the patio.  Two words:  Blood everywhere.  The good news is, my injury prone child is quick to recover.  A pierced lip is easily remedied with a teething ring and some frozen fruit.  I'm beginning to realize that fruit, especially grapes, is the fastest way to divert my son from any precarious situation. 

Jack has just under two years of sonship under his belt, and he's already filling our house with yelling, jumping, trucks, pretend sirens, growling, dirt, rocks, sticks.  He hands me boogies.  He finds treasures in the trash can.  He picks "ah-pools" (from our weeping cherry tree) off the ground and carries fistfulls into the house.  He likes to jump over his brother when Jude is lying on the ground.  He likes to see how high he can push Jude in the swing when mommy isn't looking.  He loves to jump, jump, jump on the bed and then land on the floor with a thud big enough to shake the house.  He's never without some miniature form of transportation - truck, car or train.  And he especially likes to include these special guests in mealtimes.  I've found raisins in the back of his truck, a matchbox car washed in tomato soup, and dinosaur footprints across my table.

Because who needs spoons when you can just eat off a dinosaur's tail?



"Rahhhhh!!!!"

But Jack is in touch with his feminine side too.  He gets a kick out of trying on my shoes.  He's captivated by my make-up (probably because it's so messy!), and I found him in my closet trying on bracelets the other night.  He's also a great help in the kitchen!

And he can be gentle too, despite the stories Jude has to tell.  He loves to mother his own "bee-bee."  Burping the baby is his favorite, but usually he just tucks it under his arm and carries it around the house.  It's the other "Jude" in our lives (since all babies are "Jeww" right now), and the perfect "Jude" for Jack to practice on. 

Of course, like any good son, Jack loves to bring me flowers.  It's very sweet, too bad they are usually freshly picked from my own pots.  I have repeatedly asked him not to pick the blooms off the plants, but I have a hard time following-through.  I mean, who wants to discipline their kid for brining them a flower?  I certainly don't.

 *sigh* I'm such a sucker for "all boys" ... with a side of sweetness.