Puddle Jumper

On our walk Baby D managed to find his own half-a-square-foot puddle to stand in. 

Happy as a frog. 

56 Months

Luke decided he wanted a photo too...

Just for fun, I am now 365 months old and Kenny is 377 months old.

That's a lot of months!

21 Months

Baby D is not really a baby anymore (sad face). He now jokes around and tickles Luke until he can't fight back anymore, will come up and blow raspberries on your belly if you're not careful, and loves to run away and hide in a fetal position while yelling "no dada!", then wiggle his bum in the air to let you know he actually wants you to keep tickling. 

He also knows just how to get under Luke's skin and has him near tears several times a day; nothing gets Luke going more than a well-placed "I won!" or "mine!" and Derek knows it. He also knows when he's not supposed to have something (we'll find him huddled in the corner, shielding it with his body) and when he's not supposed to do something (since he will grin, shake his head, and chant "no, no, no!"). He is fiercely proud when he learns a new word and can get a little shy when asked to perform on cue. He can also get so excited that his body can't quite handle all of the emotion, and it comes out in little noises or belly rubs or rapid squats up and down. 

What's really going to serve him well in life, though, is being able to flash his baby blues up through his long lashes. And he knows it.

Superbowl Babies

Our Superbowl was so much more entertaining because we had our very own in-person, energetic, super-enthusiastic, loud-talking color commentator! 

(not a fan of commercials or the halftime show though; he kept asking "why is this on? when is the game coming back on?")

He certainly didn't get the sit-still-for-four-hours-while-watching-sports genes from me. 

Jury's still out on whether or not Derek inherited them!

When H-Town Freezes Over

A day I never thought I'd see: Luke has a snow-day! And since no one actually owns winter gear or snow tires or even sells rock salt, everyone is stuck indoors. 

End of the world, anyone? 

Cut, Hit, Burn, and Shoot

Speaking of city boys...

Grandpa Whitt always does his best to country-fy his great-grandsons when we come to town. And what could be better than pushing a giant pile of sticks together with a tractor, burning said giant pile of sticks in ones front yard (that one first covered in gasoline), roasting marshmallows on sticks that ones teenage cousins sharpened with their personal pocket knives, and having occasional sword fights? 

Derek rode the tractor for a good solid hour, and after Luke got over his initial despair from so many good sticks being destroyed, he really enjoyed trying his hand at lighting matches and sword-fighting with some sticks that he rescued from the blaze. 

They'll be country boys before you know it. 

Snowbunnies

Mixed reviews on the snow...Derek wasn't a fan of walking on it, neither of the boys liked being cold, and after I threw a snowball right in his eyes while he was riding a sled, Luke no longer liked sledding (shocker). 

But Luke had more fun after he realized he could tackle and be tackled painlessly and Derek warmed up after Baga buried his legs in the snow. And then he buried mama.

The boys are growing up Houstonians, through and through.