They're Growing Like Weeds

I believe I mentioned recently that eldest is just over an inch shorter than me. He goes to check nearly every morning to see if he's surpassed the mark. Goofy child. He'll get there over the summer, I'm sure (and probably more) but gosh it's hard to fathom.

My sister says she has a hard time differentiating between him and hubs when she hears them in the background whilst we're on the phone.

Youngest, however, seemed content for the longest time to be happy enough being my baby. (Not in an age inappropriate way, just ...not in a rush to grow up). Part of this has always been his apres bath routine, wherein he would dry off and then hook the shark head of his hoodie towel over his head and run to hide. I was then supposed to holler for Dad because there was a SHAAARK!!!

We would make a great fuss. Find him. There would likely be tickling. And it would be, "I got the shark!" <tickle> "Wait. It's not a sharks. It's a Youngest Boy!"

And there would loon-like laughter.

Last night, he was drying off and I spied the shark towel, so I hollered for hubby. And younger boy says, "Oh, mom. We don't have to do that. That's for babies."

I'll admit my heart broke just a little bit.

As much as I detest the "The days are long but the years are short" bit, it is true. (I just happen to also feel like you're allowed to be SUPER annoyed on those crazy long days where you think you're going to go crazy -- you don't magically not have feelings just because it won't be like this forever.)

Oh. And youngest also pulled out a tooth. I reminded him to put it out for the Tooth Fairy. He went and set it on my dresser with these words, "I know it's you, Mom. You can just give me the money."

Le sigh.