He sings, ALL the time. Expecially driving in the car. It makes me so happy I could cry. The other boys didn't sing for a long time, and I swear Zephan could sing before he could talk.
And he does talk too! He is learning big long sentences. I wuh (love) you. No thank you. Chokit milk pwease.
He refuses to keep his socks and shoes on in the car. He is super ticklish. He loves any kind of meat. He eats Mini Wheats and apples, by chewing them up and then spitting them out.
He is a total violent bully who throws temper tantrums in public. I had it coming right? One outta four ain't bad, I guess. He is the kid who randomly hits other kids at the playground for absolutely no reason. He'll walk up to any adult stranger and pound on them with his tiny fists saying, "I beat you!" Perhaps the play-fighting and rough housing with his dad and bigger brothers is going a bit too far.
It's hard to stay mad at him though, when he is so snuggly and sunny and charming and delightful. He bestows us all with plenty of hugs and kisses. He loves to lay in my arms and say, "buckababy mom?" (Rockabye baby), in the sweetest voice in hopes that I'll sing to him.
He loves to tromp around the house in everyone's boots and shoes, and loves to wear his older brother's superhero capes and pirate costumes.
He loves to have a bath, and then be wrapped up like a burrito in his towel afterwards. I love it too, those springy curls all fragrant and delicious.
I adore toddlerhood. I can't help but be extra smitten with the kid who happens to be passing through this phase.
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