Wheels

Spring came early this year in Kansas, following the Winter That Never Was, and we have LOVED it! My kids can be seen in all states of dress or undress in our backyard playing almost daily. Often there are a few neighborhood kids thrown into the mix, and apart from Makai getting loose one time, there's usually not a lot of drama. Just a bunch of climbing, digging for worms, creating butterfly traps, chasing soccer balls and planting anything that might have a chance of sprouting in the space that for one season was a "garden," and is now a. . .barren, weedy spot.

In addition to playing outside, there has been a lot of this going on:

And when I say a lot, I mean 6:40 in the morning, 8:00 at night, and anytime in between. Makai loves wheels! He gets down really low, sometimes resting his head on the coffee table or couch or the hearth of the fireplace where he's moving his cars, trucks and tractors back and forth, back and forth, and making that car noise that little boys innately know.


Some days when he thinks he's 3, he might throw this move into the mix:

Yep, dancing, with his cars, on TOP of the coffee table.  Boys.


Every now and then Kai drops what he's doing, and scurries off, searching from room to room until he has found lots of cars. EVERY car in the house, then he lines them up, setting up a miniature showroom in front of the bay windows.  When the hotwheels are perfectly placed, he'll lay that crazy head of hair down on the carpet just to get a better view of all of his wheels.

 In addition to his obsession with cars, my little man can often be found doing this:

Yep, bad habit, I know. But I'm just not ready to deal with it. In the meantime, the bottle hangs between his teeth as he chases from room to room.

Here's another:

Can you see how happy that bottle makes him? And how tough it might be for me to take that sweet pleasure from him just because some doctor says it might ruin his teeth? And that fixing those teeth might cost a fortune in some far off, distant future? I mean really, he's just so happy.

And I don't let him do it in public, because that would be, well, embarassing and confessional and a little like proclaiming to the world "I am not a perfect mama!"

But I will proclaim it here, to my readership of seven or so: I am not a perfect mama! (But I sure am lovin' this sweet little boy like crazy--wheels, bottles and all).