They are so gosh darn funny. I had the privilege of being home yesterday as my big kids came home from school (not typical for this working mama). The way they come in the door is so indicative of their personalities. Reba comes home, neatly hangs up her backpack, promptly takes out her lunch box and deposits it in the proper place, and immediately takes out her folder which no doubt contains some piece of pressing news that she will not forget to tell us. So. Reba. Jacob comes home, I swear, tires on the scooter squealing, top speed straight into the house, scooter likely dropped at the door, running like a banshee, shedding backpack in the middle of the floor right outside of the bathroom, which he enters with his helmet still on. I laughed out loud as I realized what kind of scene every afternoon must be for their father. They both, apparently, do this every afternoon.
This evening Brian and I were chuckling about it to ourselves in the front seat on our way out to dinner (a rare treat but we needed to get out of the house since one of our little one's has been sick and is finally feeling a bit better). Jacob, chiming in from the back, yells, "What? I can't take any chances!" That darn kid is hysterical. The vision of him sitting on the pot with his bike helmet on has me doubled over laughing all over again.
Jacob, you may not have a baby book, but at least your mama has a blog so she can write all these fabulously embarrassing things down for posterity. I am pretty sure you will thank me someday. You're welcome, son.
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