When I was pregnant for the second time, I KNEW I was going to have a girl. (Wrong.) I was 100% positive that it was a girl. (100% wrong.) There was no way I wasn’t having a girl. (Still wrong.) So when the ultrasound technician confirmed for me that I was carrying a – “Wait, I’m sorry, what? It’s a boy? It’s not a sister?” – I cried. Not like “teared up a little bit”… no. Completely, full-on CRIED.
Now before you get all, “OMG, that’s so mean! What if he reads this someday?” let me just go ahead and ruin it by telling you that this story has a happy ending. Spoiler Alert! I END UP LOVING HIM. So it’s all good. I’ll continue.
At that point in time, I didn’t really know what boy babies were all about. The Loud One (love it) was the seventh girl born in three years on my side of the family and the nephews on my husband’s side, while awesome, are older so I didn’t spend a ton of time with them as babies. So boys were sort of foreign to me. In my head, they were all sort of hyper and aggressive and destructive. (And they have penises! How the hell do I deal with THAT?)
I was right about all those things.
Boys are sort of hyper and aggressive and destructive. (And they do have penises.)
But they are also a million kinds of awesome.
From the minute he was born, he was low-maintenance in every way the Loud One had not been. He slept well. He ate well. He liked his car seat. He liked his crib. And get this… he didn’t need to be in constant motion every second of every day as she had as a baby. He was a very serious baby, but he was also, as they say, easy.
He’s three now and he’s, as they say, not easy. He’s in the Torturous Threes phase. (Has that not caught on yet? What’s taking so long?) He’s… age-appropriate. (At least, I hope he’s age-appropriate and not just a horrible kid. How do you know??) Right now, he’s defiant and frustrating and fresh. But here’s the thing… you just can’t not love this kid. Am I right, readers? (I mean granted you’re all related to him and obligated to say yes, but humor me.) Let me explain…
Reasons Why You Can’t Not Love This Kid:
- He has the hugest, roundest, bluest eyes that are usually sparkling with mischief, unless they’re filling with giant, bloated, c’mon-those-can’t-be-real-tears because you’ve upset or disappoint him. For instance when you tell him (for the approximately 135th time):
- “No, you don’t get to ride the school bus with the Loud One today. Not for a few more years.”
- Or “Yes, you DO have to share one of your 194 Matchbox cars with your brother even though he eats them.”
- Or “No, you can’t watch just one more ‘Backyardigans’ on the iPad because DYFS will come and take you away from me because you’re only three and [xxxxx amount of time] is enough time for you to have with the iPad.” (You think I’m going to reveal that number in a public forum? No way.)
- Even though he can’t ride the bus, he still puts on his backpack and comes out to the bus stop almost every day.
- He CRACKS UP – like serious, deep belly laughs – at the Annoying Orange video on You Tube. (I’m linking to it, but I actually recommend you don’t check it out. It’s horrible and annoying and hysterical all at the same time… so better you just don’t see it. You’re going to watch it now, aren’t you? You’ll regret it.)
- He loves so many things… trains and trucks and cars; dragons and tigers; riding bikes; playing baseball and soccer; going to school; screens of all types; and board games. He loves Guess Who and The Bug Game and Candyland and Trouble… and he is a whiz at Memory (maybe because he also plays that on the iPad, but whatever.) As far as entertainment goes, this kid is easy to please.
- Despite the fact that he’d rather do any of the above, he’s almost always willing to play the Loud One’s imaginative puppy games. Even though he always has to be the Owner and never gets to be a puppy, he still plays. Because he’s just excited to be included in her fun.
- He likes to help me cook, but insists on wearing sunglasses “because onions make me so sad.”
- When he gets sent to a Time Out, he gives you a huge lower lip quiver and says, “Hugs first?”
See? The bottom line is, he’s cute and he’s happy and he’s fun and it’s impossible to stay mad at him for very long.
He still needs a Blog Name and this one was easy. When he was about two years old, we coined a word term of endearment in our house that just described him perfectly. He was always getting into stuff and being impish and a slight pain in the ass. I used to say, (100% lovingly, of course) “that kid is nothing but trouble.” Ding ding! Nothing. But. Trouble. NBT.
Friends, I’d like you to meet my middle child, the Nibbit.
Now don’t you love him, too?