“I Not Tiny Baby, Mommy.”

I appear to have a small child instead of a baby:

He’s basically potty trained (except for nighttime which we haven’t attempted yet) and can ride a balance bike, which he calls his Tiny Bike.

He finishes the ABC song by saying “next time no more sing with me.” He knows Mommy likes to watch Buffy, and Mommy and Daddy like “Soop-er-nat-chull” and Doctor Who. He has so many books memorized – two of his favorites are The Pigeon Wants A Puppy and Don’t Let The Pigeon Drive The Bus by Mo Willems. He loves Raffi’s Baby Beluga song and a bunch of stuff by The Decemberists, including Down By The Water and “the yellow bonnet song.”

He remembers one-off things you say for DAYS, POSSIBLY FOREVER. I once put some lotion and coconut oil on his butt to help his dry skin, and told him not to move or put his butt on anything before I put his diaper on because stuff (fuzz, hair) would stick to him. ONCE, I said this. And now every time I put the coconut oil on him, he starts whining, “I WANT TO PUT MY BUTT ON STUUUUFFFFFFFF!” and I have to tell him that he can, just as soon as I put his diaper and jammies on.

He’s the best.

File Under: Photos, Wesley

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