My Me Too

I'm an only child, so I don't understand this sibling thing very well. I've seen enough to know that baby sisters can be too much sometimes. They're adorable. They wear pink and say things like "Oh my goodness!" They command a room and demand attention. Little sisters make you want to do this:

GiGi turned two about a week ago, and I really should be updating the blog with all of the adorableness that is GiGi right now. But somewhere in the background, barely audible is a little, "Me too, Mommy. Look at me too."

RJ is five, and he knows better than to throw fits (though that doesn't always stop him.) He's adorable, but he's lost the appealing portability a toddler.  I still try to pass off bad days by claiming he's teething, and I fully intend to use that excuse until he's 16 (wisdom teeth count, right?).  But, the reality I don't like to face is that my little "me too" is growing up. He'd rather watch Transformers rather than Kipper.    He generally brushes his own teeth and gets himself dressed (so long as I give him an engraved invitation to do so). I take comfort in him asking me, "Mommy, is it okay if I'm just a bath guy, 'cause I don't like showers?"  I know he'll need me for at least a little while longer since we don't allow him to run the spigots.

RJ had a rough week. He crowned me "The Meanest Mother in the World." You can send your congratulatory wishes my way, because the competition is over. I totally won. I took away privileges. I yelled.  My show-stopping finale'? I made him go to kindergarten while GiGi got to stay home with her grandmas. That's when he awarded me my title: "You're a meanie! Mean mommy!"

RJ is my bestie. He doesn't fade quietly into the background, and he's growing up way too fast. And finally, after a rough week, I heard my little Me Too.  I listened.  We held hands at the park, and I made his favorite lasagna for supper. We napped together, and he caught up on hours of missed sleep.  He asked me to snuggle him and tickle his feet. He asked me to rock him to sleep.  GiGi turned two, and my Me Too found it all to be too much.

Soon enough, I'll catch up on my toddler two bits and her second birthday. But look at Me Too!

This is the smile I want for my Me Too. 

This is the smile I've gotten from my Me Too lately. 

Until today. He knows he's my superstar. 

He knows he's GiGi's hero, and he likes leading her on his adventures. 

Look at me, look at Me Too!