All Grown Up

So, my little bear got his first haircut (real one - me trying desperately to trim his little bangs does not count). It's so short. I liked his shaggy look and the way it was beginning to curl up at his neck. My baby walked in and this little man came out:

Not to mention, he got his first lollipop, so his mouth and his white t-shirt were blue (and red - I just realized there must have been two, unless it was a magical KU lollipop that turned from blue to red with each lick) by the time he was finished. I didn't go. I'm glad - I couldn't. I got tears when I first laid eyes on him. It physically hurt me to see it. Of course it was cute and obviously he's the most handsome devil around, but he looks so grown up. Sniff. I think hubby is pleased that the shag is gone.

These days, everything is "mine" or "my"...my bimmie (blankie), my mommy, my bed (which just happens to be our bed), my bobble (sippy cup). Everything is his and he is not particularly interested in sharing, which leads hubby to believe that a new baby is needed so he can get used to spreading his treasures around. Sure, whatever. He did manage to share one of his bimmies long enough to let our new friend Carter B. lounge on it for a bit.

He has excellent manners..."tan-too, mama", he says. Not just when he gets things, but when he gives them as well. It's darling. He says "scu me, mama" when he scoots past. He does have a bit of an issue with "please" - we had some drama in the car where he preferred to cry instead of asking nicely for his cup (that he had thrown on the floor for the umpteenth time..."uh, oh, bobble!"). Mind you, he was not thirsty, he just wanted to shake it up and down and get his pants wet - and continue to laugh at me each time I fell for it and picked it up.

Lately he is obsessed with football and he runs around with a Nerf football saying, "DOWN!" waiting for hubby to say the "SET, HUT!" and then proceed to tackle each other in a fit of laughter. When he does it with me, he says, "no, mama" after he is on the floor. I apparently not allowed to play. . It is, however, important to me, for Jack to know that Mama is athletic, therefore he will be attending my volleyball games come October. So, between this and the random swinging of his pint-sized baseball bat, I think I've got an athlete on my hands. If he wants to be a concert pianist, we are surely out of luck. Did I mention tv? He doesn't watch much, but he runs around saying, "Mama! Hot diggity dog!"... a delightful little ditty he learned from a Mickey Mouse show. He can hardly contain himself when he says it.


This weekend, hubby and I are off on a canoe/float trip with our cousins. Despite my excitement at getting out of town for a few days, I am not thrilled to be leaving Jack. I've had no time to prepare myself for this extended vacation and I don't appreciate how I'm feeling. I know he will have a great time and wear his grandparents down to stubs. It will be fine, I just don't like it. Am I too attached? I think this is how it should be. I miss him already.