Jamesie

This boy. This boy is crazy.

And funny.

And dramatic.

Oh, so dramatic. 

This boy doesn’t walk into a room. Oh no – he flings the door open and jumps in, shouting “Open! Door!” and spreading his arms wide with a grin. 

He has a flush dance, that he regularly performs anytime someone flushes a toilet, spreading his legs and arms, bouncing back and forth and stage whispering “Flush, flush, flush, flush!” Grin.

Band aids? Oh yeah. He’ll stick one on his wrist and do a superhero pose, shouting “Bandaid!” and rushing off to rescue the universe. 

The drama spills over to the dark side too. If this boy doesn’t get his way, he collapses prostrate on the floor, moaning. If you tell him to get up, he stands up and sags like his bones have turned to rubber. The only cure is to give him his blankie and night-night. 

Ta-Da!

He mimics every sound he hears, and imitates every gesture he sees. Baby crying? You got it. Preacher gesturing with his hands and speaking emphatically? You got it. Vacuuming? You got it. Bunnies eating grass? You got it. Sister yelling mine? You got it.

Daddy says the ideal job for him would be sports commentator. He constantly uses every word and sound effect he can think of to tell you every single minute detail of what’s going on around you.

 Mopping the floor? Your local commentator is on the job to help, by cheering, making squirting, swishing, and scrubbing sounds, and detailing every part of your work …. “Mama mop. Mop chair! Squirt! Mop floor… mop door… Mama mop! Swish! Fast! Bang! (I ran into a chair)…”

Be warned – this constant commentary, complete with sound effects, also carries over to public restroom visits. 

If anything he does makes someone laugh, it immediately gets repeated… Even if it involves falling off a rocking chair and yelling “Ouch! Bang!” over and over. 

Humor is his forte, and he thrives on having an audience.

This boy truly discovered books a few months ago. Now he reads, and wants to be read to, constantly. It’s a deep love for him – and almost any book will do. He’s very actively involved in the reading, naming everything he recognizes, and jumping in to quote the parts he knows. Some of his favorites are Little Blue Truck, Little Quack, and Buzz Buzz Baby. He also loves any book with vehicles, tools, babies, or animals. 

He knows every animal sound I can think of to ask him about, from farm animals to jungle animals, to ocean animals, and loves to be quizzed on his body parts.

“Hey J, where’s your belly button? Where’s your back? Where’s your toes?”
It’s the ultimate distraction tool, and he always repeats back the words as he points.

"Dump!"

Wait... how'd all these eggs get everywhere?!

Speaking of where… and drama… One of his favorite songs – and oh! There are so many of those! – is “I’ve got the joy, joy, joy, joy, down in my heart… Where? Down in my heart… Where?” He flings his hands out, and his little face gets a quizzical expression that just cracks us up as he yells, “Where?!”

This boy – he thrives on music. It’s how we calm him down, it’s how we rev him back up, it’s how we finally got him sleeping. He’s always singing, or begging to play guitar, or asking us to sing, or turning on the CD player without asking, or doing the motions for songs. And he likes it all. Kids songs, church songs, hymns, action songs, lullabies, oldies, classical…. “La, la, la…”

His current most requested song is Oh How I Love Jesus, and he sings it so… cute. OOOOOOOOOOHHHHH!!!!! JEEEEE JEEEEEE!!!!! 

Band-aid man!

This boy is our extrovert. He loves people, going places. He thrives on running errands – it actually soothes his soul on grumpy days to get in the car and go somewhere. Even just to the grocery store. 

My boy. He’s so incredibly sweet. And snuggly. He goes in for hugs saying “Awwww….” and loves to snuggle up. He loves blankies, stuffed animals, and pillows, and of course still uses his night-night. He can be so gentle and loving. He shares well, gives things to people (“Here ya go!”) says polite words, like please, thank you, ‘scused please, and welcome. He’s almost always willing to trade if asked.

See the blue paint in my hair? And look - I'm climbing!

And yet… he’s incredibly possessive and paranoid, this boy is. He screams “Mine!!!! Me too!!! I want!!!” if he thinks someone might even be anywhere close to stealing what he has or doing something without him. Sometimes, he even starts to hyperventilate.

 

This boy loves to help. If he’s fussing, or getting into things, just give him a job. “J, can you help me by getting a wet wipe and cleaning the table?” “J, will you go sweep the kitchen?” “J, can you go get me ____?” “J, why don’t you clean up some toys and books?”

And speaking of clean up, he does this exceedingly well and willingly. He even does it spontaneously, announcing “Clean up!” and gathering up his things to put away. It’s blissful.

He does laundry too. He’ll notice the hamper is full, push it all the way down the hall, hand the stuff up to me, then put the empty hamper back in the closet. All without a single word of instruction from me.

He’s learning so much – words, numbers, shapes, directions, prepositions, colors, names, animals, sounds. He’s learning other important things, like obeying, and listening carefully, and sitting still when told, and helping choose his own outfit, and sharing with Cadence, and taking turns, and asking nicely.

He’s so into pretending right now. It goes along with the drama. He acts out everything, from eating and drinking to taking care of babies, to scooping and dumping. 

Cadence is his hero. She’ll ask him if he wants to do something, and the answer is always “Yeah! Yeah!” or “Okay! Okay!” Even cleaning up all the toys in the bathtub to play little mermaid with her. If it makes her laugh, it is wonderful. And if it makes her smile, it is worth doing. If he can imitate her in any way, it gets done.

And he’s ornery. This boy is so. Incredibly. Ornery.  He grins when he does something bad. He laughs when we scold him. Do you have any idea how hard it is to be firm with someone who is chuckling?! He’s spoiled rotten, and he knows it.

This boy climbs. And dumps. And throws. It’s his answer for everything. If you can’t climb it, dump it, or throw it, it’s really not worth it. Top of the piano to the stairs to avoid the baby gate at the bottom? Ideal solution. Turning the chair over to climb up it and over the back of the couch? Of course. What else would you do?

And yet. This boy is well rounded. He loves playing baby dolls, and choosing his clothes, and looking at Cadence’s butterflies in her room. He has a crush on the bunny in the back yard, and obsesses over the birds who live in our tree.

This boy finally sleeps. Oh, it was a long journey to sleep for this boy! Six months of waking up every forty-five minutes are a now a blessedly distant nightmare. He snuggles, then asks to go to his bed. He’s in a big boy bed now, but he never, ever gets out of bed when he’s supposed to be going to sleep. Ever. Even when he wakes up, he snuggles with his blankie and llama for a while, then calls for us and waits until we come get him. He falls asleep easily, sleeps plenty long, with few night waking, and takes good naps.

“Eat!” This boy eats. Anything. Constantly. If he does not eat, you will experience wrath of J. Seriously. It’s not worth it. Feed the boy. Anytime you are near him – give him a bite of something. Anything. He’ll eat it.

This boy is strong and hard and lean and tough. And oh. So. Squishy. And soft. And snuggly.

This boy.

This boy is mine.

And I love him more than my heart can hold.