Stop, Drop and Blog

I went into labor the day after Thanksgiving four years ago. My mother-in-law eventually made me call my husband home from work, and the next day, we welcomed LittleBrother into the world — into our family.

It’s been an interesting year with Booey. He’s full of spunk and pizzazz and attitude and chutzpah and Booey-ness. He is very much so his own little person, and bless your poor soul if you try to help him zip his jacket. “I can do it mineself!” Foot stomping good time, it has been. Let me tell you.

He tells jokes — including fart jokes. And, uh, other jokes. According to him, he can read. Actually, according to him, he can do anything his older brother can do — and sometimes things his brother can’t do. He’s big. He’s bold. He’s not scared of anything.

But he’s a lover too. No less than once a day he tells me, “Mommy, you’re beautiful.” After the umpteenth “Mommy, Mommy, Mommy,” just about when I’m ready to snap, he says, “I love you, Mommy.” When I do something that he thinks is good, he praises me. He cuddles. He kisses. He hugs. He loves. He is tender and kind-hearted and, despite that mischievous grin, he’s really a good boy.

This year he shares his birthday with Thanksgiving, and let me tell you, we are thankful for all that he is to us.