He’s beautiful. I cannot believe how much of a difference there is in his personality now that he’s four years old. No more baby. Not even a little boy. No more a toddler. He’s a fully-fledged boy’s boy. Hulk-smashing, Thundercats-loving, sword-waving, top-of-his-lungs – he’s enormous, he’s complex and he’s mine. He’s ours.
Persistent (to the point of irritation) and determined. Short-tempered. Emotionally manipulative. Blue-eyed with a big smile – so it’s easy to get away with blue murder. Loving. Affectionate. Knows exactly the right thing to say at the right time. “Mommy, you’re the most beautiful mommy in the world.” Old soul. “If I’ve told you once, I’ve told you a hundred times, I don’t want to bath, I will shower in the morning.” Chance-taker.
Addicted to Angry Birds. Better than his mother at Angry Birds. A charmer. Soft-hearted. Confident, yet prone to moments of shyness. Puddle jumper, cat chaser, plastic-motorbike-rider. Story-teller with a vivid imagination. Lover of comics, superheroes, balloons, playground and having his face painted. Eater of pickled onions, olives, steak, spaghetti bolognaise and gherkins. Hater of eggs, oats and potatoes.
Wicked sense of humour. Still, a boyish one. Fart jokes are beyond hilarious. Lover of the Grim Adventures of Billy & Mandy. Drinker of chocolate milk and ice tea. Dresses himself. Water baby. Brave little swimmer. Wearer of goggles. Obsessed with animated Transformers and Optimus Prime. Says the darndest things. (After singing baa baa black sheep) “Mommy, why does the little boy live down the drain?”
Clumsy, big-hearted. Easily excitable. Easily offended. Can hold his own in an argument. Sticks up for his mother. Is his own person.
Awed doesn’t even begin to describe how I feel.