William

I haven't talked about my baby for a long while. He's two years and almost nine months old. He'll be going to preschool this year. What?!?! He talks a lot and makes faces. He's obsessed with Mickey Mouse Clubhouse and Mater and trains and cars and chocolate milk. I'm pretty sure he thinks we live at some 5 star restaurant and the chocolate milk is bottomless. He's HILARIOUS! I've never met such a brute. He'll climb and jump off of anything, including, but not limited to, couches, retaining walls, chairs, beds, people, etc. He gives kisses but wipes them off, EVERY TIME! He can climb in and out of his crib and has now decided that every other day is plenty where nap time is concerned (insert audible sob here). I love the way he says, "I lull lue too mama" whenever I tell him I love him. He gives the best squeeze hugs. He adores his older siblings but will tattle on them even if they're not home. He'll come up to me with the saddest little face and say, " Carthson hit me". And I'll reply, "Carson's not here buddy." And William will reply, "Abby hit me Mama." And I'll reply, "Abby's not here either so stop tattling on your siblings." He'll totter off and be over it just like that.



William can make the biggest messes. Literally the biggest. I have four kids. I've seen messes. Preston and Wesley dumped half a bag of Costco rice over three floors in our Utah house (I was loading the car for a trip, don't judge me). Preston and Tyson took a dozen eggs and broke them on my kitchen floor (I'm not sure what I was doing in this instance. Probably laundry or something constructive I'm sure). Preston seems to be the common denominator there. My point is, I've seen it all. Nothing should shock me. But it is IMPOSSIBLE to keep the whole house clean. I spent all day yesterday cleaning the entire first floor. Today I have to tackle upstairs and the tornado that hit it yesterday. And while I'm doing that, guess what will happen to my sparkling first floor?



I'm not complaining, no really. It's such a short time before we're out of this stage and it's the last time I'm going to experience a two year old. The thought of it was making me so sad and I kept pouting about it to Trevor. He wasn't acting bummed about it AT ALL. So I pouted about that too, until the day he told me that he would miss the babies. But he was so excited for this next phase of our lives. The phase where we could go on a date every Friday night. Where the kids would be a little more independent and we could start going on more trips together.



I honestly hadn't thought about that. Strange how men and women think so differently. I was mourning our baby phase and he was pumping himself up for the older and more independent phase. When I think of never holding a sweet fresh newborn of my own, in the middle of the night, I get a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. A real "I'm terribly homesick" feeling. But then I tear a page out of Trevor's book, and I get so excited for dinner and a grown-up movie on Friday night. So, I'm just going to enjoy all the messes I have to clean up now. In a few short years, I won't have toys to pick up or sippy cups to refill with chocolate milk.