And the Half Counts!
Baxter Bryant,
Happiest Halvies to the Happiest Kid on the Block (incuding a 100 mile radius).
I have been an emotional mess the past week. No, I'm not upset that another 1/2 year has gone by, but it's the realization that my days of walking you into the daycare side of the school are few and very far in between. As I get down to your level, kiss you goodbye and send you on your way, you line up with your classmates, put your hands behind your back in "ducktails" position, and you walk away in a single file, but turn around, puckering up your lips and nodding your head as if you are blowing me a kiss, but you can't because you are obeying your teacher and not removing your hands from behind your back. One month to be exact you will be putting on your tiny cap and gown on May 22nd and walking across the stage to graduate from Pre-K. Someone prepare Puffs now to increase the production of tissues. Why am I having such a hard time with this? I go back through the blog and through the many pictures and look at your 2nd birthday celebration at Valley and sitting in a little seat built into the table with the tiniest of cupcakes and think to myself, how is it possible that you are going to kindergarten?
Baxter, you are my one line wonder and it is always at times where I have to ask, "Where in the world did that come from?" For example, you and your brother have only been with me to Jiffy Lube once to get the oil changed and it's been over a year. But driving back from Zepp, half asleep, you speak up, "Hey mommy, don't you think it's time to get the oil changed?" Just when I only thought you were the seat belt police looking out for the safety of our lives, apparently you are also looking out for the life of the engine as well. You and Tripp have started ordering your own meals when eating out so when it arrives, you can't look at me and say, "But I wanted that NOT this. You step up to the counter at Panera and you look at the woman taking your order and say, "My mommy is not going to see Justin 'Beaver'." I have to look at her and say, "Yes, that is correct, I'm not, I won't, but that is not his nor my order. Baxter, please proceed with your order."
You allow me to max out my photo storage capacity daily when you strike a pose and say, "Take a picture of me, Mommy!" Well, okay. That's a tough request! You have a love for life and live it daily to the fullest. Your girlfriend and best friend is, Gracie S. You carry the picture of the two of you to school in your bookbag and get it out at night at put it by your bed. You have asked me when we can get her a tennis racquet so she can come over and play tennis with you. Melting...buddy, you have me melting.
You scare the living daylight out of me. Your coordination, well, it's not all there. You have been trying for two years now to mess up your perfect face. First with waiting until I leave you with Granddaddy for 30 minutes to visit your Aunt Jamie in the hospital when Rylan was born and getting the phone call that you had fallen down and that instead of me coming home, you and Granddady were on your way to me. A trip to Charlottesville and many hours later at UVA you had the first 16 stitches of you and Tripp. Since then, you have continued the accumulation of brotherly battle scars from Tripp, falling in your room while in time-out, and on, Sunday tripping over many logs and rocks while looking through the lens of your camera and not paying attention to where you were walking. Boy, stop scaring your mother!!!!
You can find Bax, a.k.a. the sheriff, climbing early mornings. Taken Saturday morning.
Happiest Halvies to the Happiest Kid on the Block (incuding a 100 mile radius).
I have been an emotional mess the past week. No, I'm not upset that another 1/2 year has gone by, but it's the realization that my days of walking you into the daycare side of the school are few and very far in between. As I get down to your level, kiss you goodbye and send you on your way, you line up with your classmates, put your hands behind your back in "ducktails" position, and you walk away in a single file, but turn around, puckering up your lips and nodding your head as if you are blowing me a kiss, but you can't because you are obeying your teacher and not removing your hands from behind your back. One month to be exact you will be putting on your tiny cap and gown on May 22nd and walking across the stage to graduate from Pre-K. Someone prepare Puffs now to increase the production of tissues. Why am I having such a hard time with this? I go back through the blog and through the many pictures and look at your 2nd birthday celebration at Valley and sitting in a little seat built into the table with the tiniest of cupcakes and think to myself, how is it possible that you are going to kindergarten?
Baxter, you are my one line wonder and it is always at times where I have to ask, "Where in the world did that come from?" For example, you and your brother have only been with me to Jiffy Lube once to get the oil changed and it's been over a year. But driving back from Zepp, half asleep, you speak up, "Hey mommy, don't you think it's time to get the oil changed?" Just when I only thought you were the seat belt police looking out for the safety of our lives, apparently you are also looking out for the life of the engine as well. You and Tripp have started ordering your own meals when eating out so when it arrives, you can't look at me and say, "But I wanted that NOT this. You step up to the counter at Panera and you look at the woman taking your order and say, "My mommy is not going to see Justin 'Beaver'." I have to look at her and say, "Yes, that is correct, I'm not, I won't, but that is not his nor my order. Baxter, please proceed with your order."
You allow me to max out my photo storage capacity daily when you strike a pose and say, "Take a picture of me, Mommy!" Well, okay. That's a tough request! You have a love for life and live it daily to the fullest. Your girlfriend and best friend is, Gracie S. You carry the picture of the two of you to school in your bookbag and get it out at night at put it by your bed. You have asked me when we can get her a tennis racquet so she can come over and play tennis with you. Melting...buddy, you have me melting.
You scare the living daylight out of me. Your coordination, well, it's not all there. You have been trying for two years now to mess up your perfect face. First with waiting until I leave you with Granddaddy for 30 minutes to visit your Aunt Jamie in the hospital when Rylan was born and getting the phone call that you had fallen down and that instead of me coming home, you and Granddady were on your way to me. A trip to Charlottesville and many hours later at UVA you had the first 16 stitches of you and Tripp. Since then, you have continued the accumulation of brotherly battle scars from Tripp, falling in your room while in time-out, and on, Sunday tripping over many logs and rocks while looking through the lens of your camera and not paying attention to where you were walking. Boy, stop scaring your mother!!!!
You can find Bax, a.k.a. the sheriff, climbing early mornings. Taken Saturday morning.
I caught this picture Saturday. I could (and I do) look at this face for hours. However, this weekend I was missing something. I couldn't find his baby features. But there are those eyelashes protecting his vibrant baby blues.
I love your appetite. Two minutes into our hike, this is what we saw.
"Hey bud, we just had brunch, you can't possibly be hungry."
"I'm just making sure my leg doesn't get tired."
"Ooohh, good call. We don't want the one leg to get tired..."
You truly are the happiest kid I know hands down, except when you are reading Go, Dog, Go! to me in our early morning coffee and chocolate milk Happy Hour and I discover a tick while rubbing your head. I'm not a psychologist, but if a four year old could have a panic attack, I witnessed one this morning.
On the way home from our Zepp, I found a tick crawling on my arm. I sold them on the absolute need for a shower the instant that we walked in the because ticks "will suck your blood." Great line for selling a 4 & 6 year old on getting the mud & muck off, but not so good at 6 am on your half birthday and your mother finds one embedded in your scalp and has to use "twizzlers" to get it out. However, I'm sure it was a pretty good story to tell at the lunch table!
But here is our little man once again, right before the tiny vampire appeared.
For the chocolate lover of mine, your own double chocolate chip brownie
For tonights menu, I took everyones request for favorite pizza topping and we had "Build Your Own Pizza" night for our palates delight.
Take a guess whose favorite topping was the veggies and it was not chosen for either boy...
Here you are. Officially 4 1/2. Holding onto your blanket just like your brother does, but with your head resting on Mickey. I just did a silent "YES!!" in my head. Innocence, it's still there.
Goodnight sweetheart, it's time to go. Happy Halvies. Don't let the bed bugs bite.
And last, but certainly not least,
I love you to the moon and back.
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