friday cute shot

twenty-one months

Dear Oscar,

You are getting older, you want to do everything by yourself. It takes awhile. You must unzip your own pajamas, you must find your toes hiding in your pant legs and pull them up over the hump of your diaper ALL BY YOURSELF. You are so proud.

You eat your tacos in taco-form, no longer meat and beans on a plate like your sister but wrapped up in a tiny tortilla, held together by sour cream. You ate four tacos in this way the other night, the same number as me.

You are so sweet and loving, you have endless hugs and kisses and pats for all of us. You got a new lovey for Christmas, a tiny soft lion with a silky mane, and you loved it immediately. You make the lion give everyone kisses, including the elephant heads on the living room lamp. You love to make Lion ride on one of our many stuffed giraffes, and you laugh. You take Lion everywhere, even outside the house where we never let Lucy take her lamb, and when you are looking for lion you make a shape with your mouth that is like saying "la la la" without any sound. We all know exactly what you mean.

You use your teeth when you don't get your way quickly enough. You've bitten Lucy and Teagan and me and Daddy, and you tried to bite Luca but I caught you because now we know what to look for.

We were playing the other day when Lucy observed: "You know, Oscar is a little bit savage."

Just a little bit, my boy, just a little bit.

Love,
Your mama

friday cute shot

friday cute shot

heard on the street

"Don't judge a sausage by its mustard."

-Lucy, in the kitchen, while I served up sausages for dinner