motormouth

Dear Dax,

I love you. And one day when you are older and looking back at this journal, I want you to know something. You are a motormouth. Do you know what a motormouth is? Let me tell you. A motormouth is someone who talks excessively and incessantly. Those are big words. I'll tell you what they mean. They mean you talk all the time. No, I don't think you quite understand. All. The. Time. Don't get me wrong. I love it. There is never a dull or quiet moment in this house while you are awake, but I love it. I am a great listener. Did you know that about your mom? You talk and I listen. We have a great relationship. I sure love you.
You usually start off your best conversations with, "Hey mom, did you know...." and follow up with a question about some animal that you know some crazy fact about and that I have maybe heard of once. For example, "Mom, did you know the rainbow jellyfish shoots lots of colors at you and that you fall asleep and never wake up?" When I say, "Wow! No, I didn't know that" you proceed to say, "I'll ask grandpa if he knows. He knows lots about animals." It's true. Or another one of my favorite conversation starters is, "Guess how many..." followed by some outrageous statement. Something that I could possibly never really know how many. But you always know how many. And you always tell me. And then remind me not to forget. But I do. I'm sorry about that. And these next conversations are by far the most fun for me because I really don't know where this information comes from other than your wild imagination. They go, "Remember when I was a little baby..." followed up by something that I have never told you, but you are convinced you did as a little baby. It's hilarious. I love when you share stories with me about your infancy.

Sometimes I long for those peaceful moments, but it only last a split second. Because I want you to know, I honestly and truly am delighted to hear your daily play-by-plays of what happened at play group and preschool, what you think about every species of dinosaurs, and what your best friend likes to eat for lunch. So yes, your being a motormouth suits me just fine. I hope you never change. I think your future wife will find it a charming quality.

Oh! And did you know? The average 4 year old uses 800 words. I think you use 1800. Boy do I love you.

Love, mom

why?

Kids eat funny things, would you say? Dirt, bugs, food off the floor, sand, play dough, dare I say boogers (gross), scabs from owies (even grosser), chalk, crayons, grass, glue, their hair...so many different, crazy things. Why, oh why do they like to gross their mothers out like this? After I found Wyatt with a face full of crayon shavings and every color of the rainbow on his teeth I decided I needed to get inside the head of a two year old and figure out what on earth possess this child to eat such random, crazy, should-be-nowhere-near-your-mouth kinds of things because I just can't figure it out. So I ask him, "Why did you eat those crayons (the extra splurge on Lightening McQueen ones I might add). We don't eat crayons." His brilliant answer? "Because I wanted to mommy."

There you have it. Can't argue with that.

And I didn't.

day in & day out

Day in and day out they're just boys with wild imaginations making me laugh and smile.....

We're explorers who can't stand on the tile because it's the "sticky icky mud tile". But, it appears safe for mom because she is deemed official piggyback ride giver so others can cross it safely. I am so honored.

We're deep sea divers the moment we wake up swimming from room to room because our house is a great big ocean. Watch out for SHARKS (that'd by Wyatt of course)!

We wear sunglasses for goggles and laundry baskets on our head as rocket ships and fly to the moon while playing space wars.

We're paleontologists digging around in the dirt in the backyard looking for old dinosaur bones. Don't worry, Dax uses that word and chimes in to remind me who we are because I can never for the life of me remember that word.

We're (Wyatt and me) robots getting blasted by Ice Man (Dax) stopping us from moving until we get unfrozen, also by Ice Man (which entails a punch in the arm). Thanks.

We're Shanghai knights perfecting our moves....sometimes too perfectly.

We sit on blankets for our magic carpets and imagine flying around the Cave of Wonders.

We're mobile pet shop owners and sell animal pets from the back of our Crazy Coupe cars. Anyone want a giraffe? Because we sell those.

We're pirates sailing to a desert island from the platform of our play set. We're loud pirates too...sorry to our neighbors.

We're chefs that bake the best ever banana cake in the entire world using every plastic tupperware and wooden spoon in the house (leaving their mom to clean up the mess). How very sweet, but it sure is good!

We're at a theme park riding on a "miracle ground" which in 4 year old language is a merry-go-round. No worries, I don't correct him. It's too cute.

We're mountain climbers who carefully wait at the bottom of the bunk beds for the rock slides to pass (aka pillows being thrown off the top bunk) before we continue our ascend. Pheww. They are always close calls.

Like I said... WILD! And I am so so grateful.