Snippets

There's so much and so little going on right now. So much that it's hard to find the time to write regularly (duh, as Dean would say). So little because lately it's the littlest things that have Tom and I keeled over with laughter. Take, for instance, the conversation that took place the other night at dinner. We were talking about how good yogurt is and Tom even went so far as to say it was a special treat. I mentioned that I never got to eat yogurt when I was a little girl at which time Dean looked over at me, patted me on the shoulder and said, "You will Mom. You will."
Or, I could tell you about the other day when we were saying goodbye to some new friends we had made. Another set of twins, boy-girl in this case, and the girl had taken quite a liking to our Dean. As Dean was about to get in the car, she ran up to us to say goodbye. She walked past Jack to Dean, gave him a hug then began to walk away. Jack looked after her and said, "HeLLLoooooo?"
Sometimes, Tom can't even look at me because he's trying to hold it together and, to be honest I don't try to hide my amusement most of the time. It's hard for me to not laugh out loud when Dean is channeling Spongebob. He's got his laugh down pat and has memorized most of the funny lines and will often spout Spongebobisms. When you factor in that he weighs 27 pounds dripping wet and looks like an elf, it's hard to not giggle.
Jack is . . . well, Jack is like a nursery rhyme. I'm thinking of the one in particular - the one about the little girl who had a little curl. It goes like this:

There was a little girl
Who had a little curl
Right in the middle of her forehead.
And when she was good
she was very, very good.
But when she was bad she was horrid.

That's Jack. He loves to help. He wants to help clean, and will often clean up all the toys in the living room without being asked. He loves to put the groceries away. He loves to go to the grocery store with me and will beg for the most expensive pasta sauce and pasta that they have because it will taste so good, so good Mom. He loves mushrooms and freshly grated parmesan cheese, the stinkier the better. He wants to eat oatmeal for breakfast every day, not the quaker instant kind but the old fashioned steel cut oats that could pass for wallpaper paste once cooked. He's getting so big, as he's quick to remind me, and he can run so fast. He desperately wants to be 4 1/2 and, I imagine that once he finally reaches that milestone that he'll question me daily if he's 5 yet. But, don't cross him because then he will shout, "YOU'RE NOT NICE, ___". You can fill in the blank. It's usually me, or Dean or Tom. Now I can almost see my mom nodding as she reads this paragraph because I imagine it reminds her a bit of someone she once knew. The script is somewhat different. If I remember correctly, I used to say, "I'm not going to be your friend". All I'm saying is the kid comes by it honestly.