W is a jokester - and he has no idea that he's so funny. Some recent examples:
*Apparently he and daddy were watching the baseball game the other day (natch) and the "muffin-top lose weight" commercial came on. W pulled his shirt up, and proceeded to poke and pull and prod, trying to see where his muffin top was. And also, he doesn't have one.
Meanwhile, daddy is watching him do this, trying really hard not to laugh and asks him: Do you have a muffin top? W answers: No, dad! To which my husband replies: And that's good kiddo.
*One of our nicknames for him is 'Captain Distraction'. He's 7, and in possession of a penis, so he is predisposed to being distracted easily. He will rush in to wherever his dad and I are (usually in the kitchen), all the way from his bedroom in the northeast wing of the manse (20 feet away), and need to tell us something "rightnowcan'twait...!!!!one!11".
We stand there, waiting, and we get... 'Oh, I forgot'. Not even kidding. It's actually hilarious.
*Mornings are sometimes a challenge is he hasn't gotten his alloted eleventy-nine hours of sleep. I find myself saying 'Oh W' a lot. Every morning. And he usually responds with 'Oh mom!'.
*We will discuss something at the dinner table, and no sooner has the last syllable left my breath that he will ask a question about what we JUST. TALKED. ABOUT.
i.e. I will say 'and then we will put away our laundry' and he will say 'do I have to put away my laundry' - but not in the oh ma, do I hafta? sense... more of the I wasn't listening to a word of that, but I just realized my laundry is still on my bed. I should ask mother if I should go forth and putteth away my laundry sense. At least, that's how *I* think it goes in his head. It has to. The stuff he doesn't hear amazes me.
*Which brings me to - the stuff he hears versus the stuff he doesn't hear. Take example A, above about the laundry - that's a 'not hear'. I sit across from or next to him at each meal (depending on who's turn it is to sit where). So, what? Max: four feet; Min: poking me violently in the left boob with each bite.
Let me whisper something to his father, while W is downstairs and around the corner, watching the city street department jackhammer the sidewalk, about anything pertaining to: ice cream, playing, vacation, or the Wii, and he hears it clear as day, like I hijacked the neighborhood ice cream truck and violated their bullhorn.
He cracks me up every day. Even when he throws one of his W Special Tantrums. Of course, in the middle of it, I'm asking myself how much room is on the credit card and if I can get to the airport in time for the last Cabo flight. (I can. I pack QUICKLY).
Truth: I wouldn't trade them for the world.
And also - I found the BESTEST book EVAH for those of you who have little ones that fight the sleep. I hear that between the ages of 2 and 6 is the worst. I wouldn't know. Yes, you can hate me now. K was a DREAM sleeper during that time, and so are J and W now. I don't know what J and W were like when they were between the ages of 2 and 6, so I have no frame of reference other than to say that they are GREAT now. They go to bed, no muss, no fuss.
Anyway - read it. It's funny. If even a little irreverent. And it has a lot of F-bombs. I'm just warning you now.