BACK OFF KID…I KNOW YOUR TRICKS.

But lately, man…he has had some great hysterical moments of cuteness. I wanted to try to document them for posterity and to share them with you so that you can see what I’m dealing with over here. PURE, UNADULTERATED EVIL. Some of these statements or questions seem innocuous when you first read them, but imagine them spoken by an adorable boy with giant blue eyes and big blonde girls and you’ll see exactly what I’m dealing with over here.

• “Nikki! You are not old enough to dance sexy like that!” While watching his sister dance during GLEE. She wasn’t ‘dancing sexy’ for the record but I have gotten on her for that before.
• “We don’t say, ‘What the hell?’” At family dinner. Of course.
• “Momma, you look beautiful.”
• “Did you have a good run?” Another variation: “Did you have a good boot camp?”
• “I’ll rub your head for you…” In response to my regular headaches. His headrubs are actually quite good.
• “When I grow up, will I get boobies too?”
• “Nikki! Come see Momma’s big muscles!”
• “Momma…I don’t really like wereworlves.”
• “Can I have some privacy?” When he feels like he doesn’t really want company in the bathroom with him.

Don’t let those big blue eyes fool you. He’s pure evil with big floppy blonde curls.

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I mentioned recently that Wes’s behavior been SO MUCH BETTER as he gets closer to the age of 4. I even took him to his first rehearsal for “Alice in Wonderland” the other day (He and Nikki are playing heart children in E’s play) and I was TERRIFIED that he’d be awful. But he wasn’t! He obeyed first time and amped up the “cute” factor so much that the director of the play had to coach the cast and remind them, “You will have to hold for quite some time because the audience will be Oooooh-ing and Aaaaaaahh-ing over the kids.” He was perfect!

I also mentioned there was not enough wood to knock on for that entry. THERE WAS NOT.

I went to pick him up from daycare and there was the dreaded Incident Report waiting for me. I hate those things because 9 times out of 10, my child is the one causing the incident, as opposed to the victim. Sure enough…”Wes bit one of his friends today…”

HE BIT. We stopped biting years ago…HE BIT.

Evidently this friend was at the computer and he wouldn’t give Wes a turn. So he BIT HIM. *sigh* Of course, because he is almost 4, the first thing the entire class did when I walked into the classroom was say, “WESLEY BIT SO-in-SO!!!!” Because they’re all plenty old enough to understand the severity of the incident and want to TATTLE TATTLE TATTLE about it. So, just a few short months after we (hopefully) finally lived down the reputation of having the kid that talks about the proper names for private parts ALL DAY LONG, all of the parents are now going to know our kid as The Biter.

Just wanted to share the story lest you think we were out of the woods. We are obviously not.

He turns four in May but lately? He has been SO MUCH BETTER. The threats of time out actually work and nip bad behavior in the bud. He apologizes for misbehaving. Reminders of, “When do you obey?” actually illicit the proper response, “First time!” followed by: ACTUALLY OBEYING. But above all else? He has gotten SO SWEET.

On top of just the improvement in behavior, he has become a snuggle bunny times A MILLION. He has always been a lover, not a hater. He wants to be held and – while mostly shy around strangers – if someone offers to hold him? He’s all theirs. He’ll let them pick him up and then he’ll snuggle with them. Which, of course, wins him the hearts of many unsuspecting women.

But lately? It’s been more than that. He just wants to LOVE on everyone. And it’s WONDERFUL. Granted – a lot of the time it’s because he doesn’t want to walk, but STILL. His new thing? “Momma, will you hold me? I’ll keep you WARM.” I’ll pick him up and he’ll wrap his arms around me SO TIGHT and keep me warm. He also wants to snuggle in bed (“I don’t need a nap, just a hug.”) and he wants to sit in my lap WHEREVER we are.

And yes…if this was all still accompanied by the dreadful “AGE THREE IS FROM THE DEVIL” behavior? It would not be as welcomed. But with this new and improved, maybe-I-won’t-sell-him behavior? I can’t get enough of it.

The best moment was yesterday. I was scrubbing the sink in his bathroom and he just came in and was talking to me. Suddenly he said, “Thank you, Momma, for cleaning our bathroom.”

SHUT THE FRONT DOOR.

That’s unusual behavior in a child at ANY age. Hell…I admit to sometimes asking my husband to notice and appreciate those type of things.

In conclusion? I am in love with my child again. Not that I ever didn’t LOVE him, but sometimes – when his behavior was so awful and my patience had grown so thin – I might not have liked him all that much. But now? And I’m not even lying: I sometimes wake him up early just so I can enjoy more time with him before I go to work.

Wes has done a couple of baby-book-worthy things lately. Except, you know, I don’t keep a baby book. I keep a BLARG. And while I fear that some of these things will have to be deleted when he gets old enough to surf the archives, that doesn’t mean we can’t all laugh at them in the meantime, AM I RIGHT?

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Wes was pretending to have a sword fight in the kitchen the other day. He’s totally obsessed with Power Ranger: Samurai lately, so we do a lot of sword-fighting. I was just passing through when I heard him yell, “I’m fighting the bad guy’s nipples!”

(This was one of those moments that the “double-take” was invented for.)

We teach proper names of all body parts around here, so he knows that word, but I can’t FOR THE LIFE of me figure out what that bad guy’s nipples could have done to warrant such animosity? I didn’t bother asking. I didn’t really want to know.

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Yesterday Wes was running around with his camera taking pictures of everyone. Donnie was still asleep and Wes wanted to take his picture. I thought it would be funny for him to wake up having Wes taking his picture so I told him to go right ahead. Except, it turns out Donnie had woken up and was in the shower. He heard Wes knocking on the door of the bathroom and told him to come in. Wes came in and proceeded to take pictures of his Daddy. SHOWERING. Donnie convinced Wes to leave the camera behind in the bathroom and he immediately got out of the shower and deleted the evidence. So, which do you think is worse…waking up to having your picture taken OR…having your child photograph you showering?

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What do you think…should I commemorate these things in a cute scrapbook?

Wes was a little unimpressed with the “OMG! FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL!” attention that was going on with Nikki and E yesterday. I tried to lavish some attention onto him because he moves up to the official Preschool class, but he saw through my veiled attempts and decided just to be clinging and grumpy ALL DAY. He wouldn’t take a picture with his sister, even when his very tired big brother did. Instead, he spread himself out on the front stairs cuddling the zebra his Daddy had when he was a kid. And even though he’s never shown any affinity for stuffed animals…yesterday THAT ZEBRA was the only thing that would console him. Well, the Zebra and a nap on the brick stairs, evidently.

He wanted to sleep with the Zebra at naptime so I didn’t bother grabbing it when I picked Wes up yesterday. BIG MISTAKE. Had it come home with us, he wouldn’t have touched it all night. But because we left it? It was all he wanted. This was SO WEIRD because he is just NOT a stuffed animal kid. E was. I was. His sister still is. But Wes? Has never really gotten into the whole Stuffed Animal thing. Of course, this was all upsetting during the whole HOW WAS EVERYONE’S FIRST DAY OF SCHOOL? routine. So, I offered him one of my stuffed animals. Me Ewok which my Dad gave me when I was 10. If you’ll recall, that Ewok carries more sentimental value than any other object I own.

Wes curled up with Ewok on the dog bed. Which is second only to the brick front stairs in the Grumpy Spots To Lay Down category. I told him he had to be very careful with it because it was my favorite. And no: HE COULD NOT TAKE IT TO SCHOOL. I’m no dummy. But it was a decent replacement Zebra for the night.

It’s tough being the youngest. This is not something I can empathize with as I am the oldest child. I think yesterday was the first day I really saw the whole Youngest Child Disadvantage thing in action. Haven’t noticed it to such a degree before. Any of you guys youngest in your family? Do you remember the First Day Of School when you were still too young to go? Or will this be one of those days that fades in his memory but not in mine?

Either way – even when he’s grumpy and pouting – my kid is damn adorable too. Good thing, because I’d leave him on that front stoop if he wasn’t.

This kid is a SLEEPER. I mean, I have yet to meet a kid who sleeps more than this one. I find this entertaining as I’m the one usually up by 5:30am on the weekends, yet MY kid sleeps until 9am. OR LATER.

“Oh, Kim. He must go to bed late then, right?”

7pm weeknights. SEVEN O’CLOCK. Sometimes we let him stay up until 8pm on the weekends, but usually that extra hour makes him cranky. So, on the weekends, he goes to bed around 7:30 and sleeps until I WAKE HIM UP. If I didn’t wake him up? He probably would sleep until 9am. One day, when Donnie and I had a race and E was in charge of getting up with the kids, we came home around 10am and Wes was STILL ASLEEP.

“Oh, Kim. He must just not take naps then, right?”

3 hours. THREE HOURS. On the weekends he takes AT LEAST a 2 hour nap, but most days it’s three. And some days I even have to wake him up at 3 hours. So, he sleeps for at least 15 hours a day over the weekends. (Less on the weekdays as I have to wake him up around 6:30am for school.) Or, you could look at it as, he is ONLY AWAKE NINE HOURS a day. MAXIMUM.

While this is 90% awesome as a parent, it does mean that I have to be very understanding when he can’t get all the sleep he needs/wants. Which was YESTERDAY. Weekdays are already a little sensitive as he has to get up early for school, but yesterday his teacher said he only napped 30 minutes. Not that she had to tell me, his crying for me when I got to school told me everything I needed to know. He’s usually quite laid back, so I know something’s up when he’s irrationally upset.

And he cried for the better part of the night.

This is usually one of those moments when, as a parent, I lose all patience. I often send him to bed when he’s irrationally upset, but last night? I knew it was just because he was tired. So, I held him all night. Even while I was cooking and cleaning. I let him watch TV, I pampered him at the grocery store. Just about everything he wanted, I complied with.

This is one of those many times where parenting is NOT black and white. My parenting was wrong by all definitions of spoiling. YOU DON’T GIVE IN TO EVERYTHING. EVER. Just about every normal parenting method tells you that. But sometimes, as a parent, you just know. You just know what they need.

I knew getting the stitches out was not going to be EASY. I hoped it wouldn’t hurt as bad as getting them in, but I figured we’d get some tears. I had to hold him down while he got the stitches, I just assumed I’d have to help hold him down while they took them out. Holding my child down for medical procedures has never bothered me like it does some parents. I think it’s because I’m always of the mindset: JUST GET IT OVER WITH. If holding a screaming child down makes it go faster? Let’s do it. And if someone HAS to hold my child down? I want it to be me, because at least then I’m a soothing voice of comfort amidst the wails.

SO…I was ready. I was expecting I’d hold him down, they’d yank them out. Then end.

But NOOOO…Wes had to go be all adorable and Nurse #1 point blank said, “I’m going to let the doctor do it, I don’t want to hurt him.” She tried for a minute and he winced, and that was enough heartbreak for her. Then she gave him a sticker. AND SHE HADN’T EVEN DONE ANYTHING.

Nurse #2, the higher ranked nurse who I’d just assume see most days over the pediatrician – she’s that good, came in. She too fell victim to my son’s blue eyes and exceptional manners. For the record: He seems to only use those manners without prompt when there is something to be gained. He has NEVER been as sweet and proper to ME as he was to that nurse yesterday. So, she goes in and at least got the scissors under the stitch but as she yanked and tried to cut, it didn’t happen easily and Wes called out (not even a cry, yet) and she stopped. She tried a different pair of scissors, hoping it would cut better, but the same thing happened. So, she stopped again. Didn’t want to make him actually CRY of course.

At this point I even mentioned that I was EXPECTING him to cry and that was OKAY BY ME. She said, “We’ll just wait for the doctor.” And then she brought him a sucker. At this point? The kid has scored a sticker AND a sucker for NOTHING.

The doctor came in and she was all business. Usually she chats with the kids a bit but you could tell she knew what was going on. She knew she had entered a room with a child capable of manipulating her entire staff so she just looked at the stitches, came up with a plan of attack and we went for it. I held him down, he screamed and cried — FOR LESS THAN ONE MINUTE. She was done. Stitches out. Wes stopped crying the second the last stitch was out and sweetly asked for another sucker. “A green one!”

And of course, he got it.

This is Wesleyan Hall. It was the building Donnie and I studied in while getting our Geography degrees at the University of North Alabama. I spent many hours in that building and even a few nights working on projects for school and work. E even slept up there a few times. One notable time, I laid down with him just to “rest my eyes” on the couch in the computer lab, and then woke up the next morning in a panic as E was due at school in about 5 minutes. Luckily his Kindergarten had a uniform, so no one knew he wore the same clothes the day before.

This is the building that gave us Wes’s name. He turns three tomorrow.

I don’t really do annual letters or photo montages. I figure that’s what this whole blog is – a tribute to my family. Sometimes a boring tribute, but usually with cute pictures. If there’s one trait that stands out about Wes the most right now, it’s that he is the biggest snuggle-bug on the planet. He even proved it last weekend by snuggling in the arms of Nikki’s t-ball coache’s wife for a good 15 minutes. He’s SUCH a good snuggle bug, you’ll put up with it even though he weighs 27lbs. It’s his most evil super-power, to be honest. He makes the hearts melt of women everywhere as they hold him in their arms. I’m surprised no one has given him a car yet.

Happy Birthday, Wessie-Woo. I don’t always get a chance to blog on Saturday so I wanted to commemorate your special day today. I hope this year brings you lots of dead bugs and garbage trucks. Love, Mom.

I kept the interwebs updated in other areas about the BUG DRAMA that unfolded in our lives this weekend. It all started Friday when Wes found this dead beetle on our porch. He started carrying it around and while I took pictures of his sister before his dance recital, he insisted that I take a picture of him and his bug too.

As you see here, he even put the bug on his lap. You know – because when he gets his picture taken with Mommy or Daddy? He sits in their lap! This photo setup only makes sense.

We found a green jar for him to put the bug in, and he dumped it out and looked at it 100 times between Friday night and Saturday morning. He took it to Nikki’s ballgame where he was the talk of all the little brothers. They even found ANOTHER beetle to put in the jar. TWO DEAD BUGS. We were all quite proud.

He wanted to take it to Accolades (E’s theater awards show) Saturday night. At first I said “No,” but he was so disappointed, and I found the whole ordeal so cute, I obliged.

See the jar in the photo there? That’s about as far as he ever wanted it from him. EVER. So we let him take it to the show. And of course, about 1 minute before lights went down in the house (house: the part of the auditorium where the audience sits.) Wes dropped the jar. Glass and dead bugs EVERYWHERE. It was AWESOME. It was pandemonium as we looked for a broom and tried to get everything cleaned up before the show started. Wes handled it well, but was not impressed that I crammed his precious dead bugs in my purse.

I HAD DEAD BUGS IN MY PURSE.

Now the bugs reside in the plastic cup in my kitchen. You know, because we think that’ll impress guests. “Please, come into our home. Yes. Those are dead bugs in our kitchen. Are you ready for dinner?”

He’s very disappointed he has not found any more to add to the collection. I thought about trying to preserve them in some way, but he loves holding them in his hand and feeling their sticky feet attach to his skin. (EW.) I’m guessing we’ll have to just dispose of them eventually. I am hoping, however, that he finds more to replace it. I’m thinking bugs are his thing now, which means they need to become MY thing. As long as they’re dead, I’m okay with that. I told Wes we are NOT collecting LIVE bugs. You know…because we don’t want to take them from their families.

Yeah. That’s why. It has nothing to do with the fact that BUGS ARE FREAKIN’ CREEPY. I can cope with Dead Bugs…but live ones? HELL NO.

Donnie and Wes unintentionally ended up matching on Easter Sunday. Nothing planned, but I couldn’t resist snapping their picture. First, Donnie squatted down and Wes squatted down next to him. This cracked us up because – while Donnie looked like he was just trying to get down to Wes’s level – Wes looked like he was pooping in the yard.

Donnie asked him to stand up and said, “Just put your hand on my shoulder.” This is what he did. He couldn’t understand why we were laughing so hard. I mean…is he totally gangsta or WHAT?