Like Mother, Like Son

I just caught up on episodes of Bones last night and it was the one with Dr. Bunsen Jude the Science Dude. That name totally makes me laugh. Anyway, his signature phrase was "That's A-MA-ZING!" I totally think I'm going to use this from now on. And say it in just that way too (Uh-Maaaaaay-Zing).

Uh-hem. Anyway. Back to the topic.

As if there wasn't enough evidence that I ended up with a child "just like me," my son decides that orange is his favorite color. This, of course, requires that EVERYTHING be orange. From the floss stick he uses use at night, to the clothes he wears each day.

Recently at school they have been using bean bags and playing games with them. He asked me if we could buy some bean bags and I, being the crafty mom I am, convinced him that I could make him bean bags just as cool as any store bought ones. About 30 minutes into picking out the fabric for these bags I realize I should have kept my mouth shut. Standing there in the store, listening to my son whine, "no! It has to be JUST orange!" about to rip my hair out and lose my mind if he doesn't just PICK ONE ALREADY. I suddenly had a revelation.

I am about 6 or 7 years old. It's 1980 something and we are on our annual family get together at Kings Dominion. My grandmother has just agreed to buy my sister and I any shirt we want. While my sister picked hers out in a few minutes, I want a purple shirt. Why? Purple is my favorite color and everything I get has to be purple. So I drag my poor grandmother to, no lie, EVERY SINGLE STORE in that park until we finally found one. To this day that story is still told at family events, and my grandmother, still a bit bitter about it all.

Now, standing in front of the rows and rows of fabrics, desperate to find an all orange one before my son has a total meltdown and I die of old age; I think to myself, "this is what my parents went through." And once again I am reminded of the fact that I was cursed, oops, I mean, blessed to have a child just like me.

*Note: we eventually found an all orange fabric, tucked away behind some other ones and it was THE LAST ONE. You can bet I grabbed that thing, held on for dear life, and ran to the checkout as fast as Mason could keep up.

16 months.

This girl, I am LOVING her. Not that I didn't before. But now, these days, I am REALLY loving this girl.

This girl, who talks very little but understands much more than she can say. Like a sponge, she absorbs everything.

This girl, who is growing so fast.

This girl, who loves the camera.

This girl, who has become such a copy cat. From imitating our noises, facial expressions and actions to wanting to do everything her big brother is doing. Playing with cars and trains, joining in a game of chase or hide and seek, and sitting on the stairs, next to him, to get her shoes put on in the morning.

This girl, who loves to eat. Grapes, string cheese, gerber sweet potato puffs. Pretty much anything you put in front of her. And who still throws her sippy cup and plate on the floor.

This girl, who is constantly on the move. Running here and there. She never wants to be held for very long. Whose walk is pigeon toed causing her to swing her hips just so, that her skirts twirl.

This girl, whose personality has really burst forth.

This girl, who loves to dance and knows how to be silly.

This girl, who is very much like her brother, rough and tumble. But still enjoys a cute tutu and admiring herself in front of the mirror.

This girl, who gives high fives and cheers. Who pouts and gives you dirty looks.

This girl, who is fearless. Running full steam into waves, and going head first down slides.

This girl, who can throw a tantrum with the best of them. Screaming, hitting, falling on the floor, crying and looking oh so pathetic. Who will actually sit in time out for a full minute. Forty percent of the time.

This girl, who has developed a relationship with her brother. Who gets frustrated when he takes a toy away but who still wants to hold his hand in the car. Who misses him each day he's at school. Who sometimes gives hugs and kisses and is always, ALWAYS willing to play and be goofy with him.

This girl, who likes to have her teeth brushed before bed and enjoys books.

This girl who charms the pants off of strangers while shopping and family who visits. Whose smile melts your heart and whose giggle is infectious.

This girl, who surprises me everyday. When the basement door is left open and I see her heading in that direction I panic. Thinking she is headed for the stairs and going to tumble down them, I jump up only to find she is helpfully closing the door. Then turns to me, nods her head and claps her hands in self acknowledgement of a job well done.

This girl, who has discovered crayons.

This girl. This 100% mama's girl, who has given me the opportunity to know what it feels like to be the preferred parent. I LOVE IT.

This girl, who can follow simple instructions. Like, "bring me your boots."

This girl, who sometimes reminds me of Zeke. When I am in the bathroom and I see these tiny little fingers appear under the door and a little voice call out, "hi."

This girl, who looks good in hats. Which is good because she doesn't have much hair yet. And even though I dress her in pink, people still think she is a boy.

This girl, who still takes two naps a day.

This girl...

Yeah, I love this girl.

I got a feeling, that tonight's gonna be a good night

Saturday night we went to the the local VillageFest in our neighboring community. It wasn't our first experience at a carnival but to date it was the most memorable.

Entering fall and quite possibly the busiest time of year for us. Between birthdays, holidays, family visits and get together's, school events, NFL and any other local venues/events or happenings we'd like to attend, our weekends book up awfully fast. We barely seem to have time to breathe.

So, it was nice, after a gorgeous day of watching Daddy race at Summit Point, to spend some time with friends being silly, riding rides, getting messy with cotton candy and funnel cake and rocking in out to old school jams.

And can my kids rock it out or what? This scene had me cracking up almost all night.

Yeah, they take after me.