You've been up to a lot lately. And a lot of what you've been up to has certainly been mischief. The closer you get to three, the more willful you've become. Willful. Defiant. Stubborn. These are not terrible qualities, for the most part, but they've certainly tested my parenting skills. When I say "stop," you go. When I say, "Come here," you run the other way. I think I need to read a book on child psychology!

But the cute, sweet boy is still with us too. The scales haven't tipped so far into Naughty Land. Just a bit.

Your latest thing that makes me laugh the most is your insistence on safety. It started with logical things, like when I was cooking at the stove or cutting with a knife. "Be careful, Mommy!" you'd state very seriously. "Of course, Devin. I appreciate you watching out for me, sweetie."

Then it escalated to things that don't seem anywhere near serious. Brushing my hair. Making the bed. Letting the dog back inside. The volume has been turned up on it too. "BE CAREFUL, MOMMY!" (And Daddy gets the same cautioning.) I have to try not to laugh. Because it is very sweet to be looked after that way.

I'll leave this entry with a funny exchange we had yesterday at the mall. You were in the ice cream truck, the one that resides with all of the other coin-operated vehicles that you love to climb all over. You were scooping fake ice cream into a fake ice cream cone and handing it to me. Over and over again. "This for Mommy," you'd say each time.

I decided to ask you if you were going to have any ice cream too.

You looked at me very seriously and said, "No, Mommy. I drive the truck."

Is it any wonder why I love you so?

Posted on January 14, 2007 09:43 PM