Yesterday, we made an early morning run to the grocery store. "Hurry! Get in your seats! We have to beat the ice!" I barked at the littles. A winter storm was imminent, and we needed kitty litter, desperately. I carried Gigi across the parking lot, her feet clad in feet 'jamas and pink velour kitty slippers. As is our custom, RJ grabbed my hand as he exited the swagger wagon. There we were: me in purple sweatpants, Gigi in her pink 'jamas, and RJ in mismatched flannel bottoms and a Thunder shirt. RJ is getting taller, and smarter, and smarter mouthed. He has a quick wit, and a goofy little boy sense of humor, particularly when it comes to bottoms, toots and poops. Most days, when we get to the sidewalk in a parking lot, he drops my hand and dances ahead, just a few feet. Yesterday, he held on. He held my hand in the parking lot, on the sidewalk, and in the store (until he realized he could still ride in the cart, and riding is always easier on the legs). I simply held onto him.
The days that he will be my little boy are growing increasingly shorter. With every video game, he slides closer to being a big boy, and with every movie, he learns one more snarky comeback.
For now, he's most assuredly still my little boy, the little one who was excited for Christmas, excited for presents, excited for candy, lasagna, and playtime:
This was when we told him he could watch Cousin Eddy's dog blarf under the table one more time.
Rudolph gets thirsty; this year, we made reindeer water and waited for the magic.
Video games are fun, but there's nothing quite like a little boy with his planes...
and his cars...
and just a bit of baby sister silliness.
Of course, this one is only three.
She's three going on thirteen,
and while she's letting go of a lot of things these days,
it will be a few years
before she lets go of me. (Update: The littlest one, just burst into the room, singing, "Let it go! Let it goooooo! Can't hold me back anymoooore!" to raid my shoe rack for some slippers--three going on thirteen.).
There were some serious discussions on Christmas Eve.
Most of those serious discussions concerned whether I was really going to make Gigi wear a baby dress.
I did.
Because she is a baby!
Though, she and her brother feel awfully grown up when they work as a team.
This pretty lady helped keep me sane over a five-day weekend with the littles working as a team.
And Santa Daddy made a secret delivery, surprising all of us.
An inch of snow is still exciting when you're six.
It's equally as exciting when you're three.
Particularly when you let go of your irrational fears and hold on to the magic that is being a kid. (Gigi was afraid of snow last year).
We didn't get the icy mix that was predicted yesterday. We did get another day trapped at home. RJ played some video games, and Gigi tried on a hundred different looks. I held onto the last official day of Christmas break and onto the two littles that are still little for now.
I don't think I'll let go.
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