Owen crawls like an alligator but fast, he likes to study your skin and use his razor nails to rip your blemishes/moles/skin tags off when you least expect it/sleeping, he talks loudly and angrily…constantly, he likes to put his head in baskets and buckets to ram things, he likes to sit facing forward on your lap and lean back over his shoulder to stroke your face and pull you close for open mouth kisses on your face, he signs that he wants to nurse but blows raspberries on my breast instead of latching and smiles at me mischievously, he’s like a homing device for his sister and bulldozes whatever she’s playing with that he can reach. He eats anything you put in front of him.
Nora-isms of the past month:
Her response to my guacamole, “Mmm, it’s happy in my mouth.”
I asked her if she pooped, “I not…in the potty.” What?! “I pooped by the dollhouse but NOT on the dolls…or the potty.” (There was a footprint trail of poop from the dollhouse in her room to the kitchen and living room. I found her standing in the bathroom at 5am trying to clean herself.)
Do you like your sandwich? “Yes, it tastes like chicken.” (It was a salmon salad sandwich.)
What should we do today? “I want to see Evie and make a farm.” Oh, who will be on the farm? “Unihorns.”
Watching me as I dressed, she patted my back as she sat behind me on the bed, “I like your pimples, mama.” Do you know how much I love you? A large sigh followed by a roll of the eyes and a smile, “Yeeeeeh-Sss!”
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