My little Jack Jack is one tomorrow, which is pretty unbelievable to me. I'm still fat from my pregnancy-- it's kind of embarrassing that he's a year old already. Now I'll have to blame the muffin top on the fourthmeal I eat around 9 every night.
I kind of feel like I don't know him as well as I knew Harry, like I don't appreciate him enough, like I don't have time to just revel in his adorableness and photograph his every raised eyebrow, crinkled forehead, and curved lip, you know? Also, Jack is a huge daddy's boy. When the garage door opens at 5:30-ish, he screams with delight and shrieks "Dada!!" Then he crawls toward the gate at the top of the stairs as fast as his chubby little knees and fat hands will take him. After dinner, he is Ben's laundry folding and putting away buddy while Harry and I clean the kitchen, and he loves playing with Daddy in the tub. The only thing he wants me to do for him is put on his jammies and read him his bedtime stories. Unfortunately, I can't always do that because someone else would also like my post bath attention. And that someone else?
He's a loud one.
But also oddly mannerly. Top of the morning to you.
Um. Eew. Kind of a gross toy.
Hanging out. Could be anytime, any day (no, the fact that Jack and I are in our jammies does not help determine the time of the picture. We wear our jammies a lot.)
Ben and Harry dying eggs on Easter Eve (note Harry's Santa cup)
Harry looks like a cartoon in this picture. A very loud cartoon.
So sweet. Ben reading one of the books the Easter Bunny left in their baskets.
Who thought the bubble whistle was a good idea? Oh. Right. I did. Oops.
Harry telling my mom about the Easter Bunny's visit-- at one point he put her on hold accidentally and was all, "Grandma? Grandma? Why you not talk at me anymore?"
Heeeeeeelp!! My bangs have taken over my faaaaaaace!!