There are little things/moments I share with my boys. Most of them insignificant for a “big” memory, but that is exactly what makes them so special to me. They are all about us being us. These little snippets of our lives are so precious to me and things I don’t want to forget, but someday I know I will. I want these little stories to come back to. Especially when they reach their teen to adult years and want to claim that we never did anything really special together. You know how teens can be. I plan to share one of these every Thursday. They may be short or long or funny or cry worthy, some will include pictures, some won't, but they are all special to me.
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Let's lighten things up around here, shall we?!
This week is short, silly, and sweet....
I have LOVED the age of 5. Parents, this is my piece of advice to you, don't get your hopes up that 2 is tough and no other age is. Around our house, the terrible two's start around 18 months (12 months if you are Weston or the youngest brother) and they cccooonnnttiiinnnuuueeeee THROUGH age 4. Five? Five brought Dale and I some much needed relief. Wyatt helps, unloads the dishwasher, gathers the trash bags, DRESSES HIMSELF, puts things in the fridge, picks up the living room (the way I would), cleans his room, and brings me the boy's laundry baskets. I can't believe I almost forgot this one, but he also WIPES HIMSELF acceptably among other things that I am sure are slipping my mind right now. He's also a HUGE help with Weston most of the time. When mommy or daddy aren't available for a hug, big brother will do.
We have appreciated this beyond words since life is crazy and keeping up drives us crazy. Not to mention one less child whining about everything. HOWEVER, things are not all rainbows and fishing poles 100% of the time. He doesn't have this helping spirit everyday. He still has his moments when he is being a little... let's just say it ends in "hole".
There were times I would do anything to try to get him out of that mood. Everything I tried seemed to blow up bigger in my face. One day apparently I was feeling less than mature when I grabbed him. I hugged him tightly close to my body. I took my fingers and tried to widen his eye. Then I yelled. I yelled right into his eye, "Wyatt, sweet Wyatt, are you in there?" That made him laugh, but he still wanted to tighten his lips so I yelled up his nose, " Wyatt, please, sweet Wyatt, I need you. Please come out of there." It was working. He was laughing to say the least. For the finale I flipped him over and yelled into his clothed poop shoot, "Sweet Wyatt, you've got to come out of there. There is this mean boy that is trying to be you and I know he isn't. You've got to come out and rescue us." That's it. It did the trick. I've had to use this A+ parenting skill a few more times. Works like a charm!
Please, feel free to follow me in my parenting journey. Maybe one day I will write the book for you all since I have this crap figured out, obvs!
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