My little ham bone

I haven't written about my son, Grant, in quite a while. After receiving this picture, I couldn't help but pause and reflect.

Isn't he a ham? We didn't prompt this pose at all. During the photo sessions after my brother-in-law's recent wedding, we were trying to get him to smile, and my husband gave him a "thumbs-up" from the sidelines. 

At three and a half, he has returned to his normal, cheerful, but mischievous self. In contrast to my daughter, he is much more sneaky. We often find him hiding with various electronics under our large ottoman, our bed or his bed. The same goes with food-- he says "surprise" with his little eyebrows raised, as if the candy or chocolate in his mouth was a great idea. He also has very specific preferences and explains those in great detail at great volume. This morning: "Mom, I need milk in. a. sippa. cup." Every word is emphasized. As if I didn't know or hadn't heard that one before.

Most of his winter days involve couch acrobatics, breakdancing spins on the wood floors, or going over "to check if Ben's home." Ben is his neighbor friend next door; Grant explains it like this, "You know, Ben's my bruder, you know, Mom?" Here they are roasting marshmallows in front of your favorite winter activity: making a fire. I think you get this love of woods, outdoors and fires from your Opa, who loves to take you outside to chop wood every time you visit him.

In other ways, you are still a little guy. Every morning, if you don't find me in bed, you ask me, "Why you not in bed, Mom? You supposed to 'nuggle me!" You bury your cold feet against my warm legs and you nuzzle down under the covers or blanket next to me. I love these little moments because I know they won't last forever. I always knew I wanted little boys for their rambunctious and spirited energy-- and I got a special one in you.