Sunday, March 21, 2010

Happy 4th Birthday Booker!

Booker, I have to start off by telling you thank you. Thank you for being you. I love that you are so independent, I love your crazy personality, I love how caring and loving you are, I love that you are such a great big brother, and I love that I get to call you my son... FOREVER.

Here is a picture of you when we first brought you home from the hospital. You were a dream come true. And, you were such a perfect, happy baby. My heart just melts when I look back at pictures of you when you were this little, because sadly, I don't really remember them.

Here is a picture of you at 1 year. Don't you just want to squeeze you? So loveable.

Here you are at 2 years old. This is when your personality started kicking in a little more. Two was the year of Booker being independent. And when I say that, I mean stubborn. :) But, nothing your mommy couldn't handle.

On to 3 years old. I think your fun-loving, happy-go-lucky personality shines in this picture. What a ham!

And now 4? Can you even believe it? I can't, because I'm not old enough to have a 4-year old. You have definitely changed. You are no longer a baby, no longer a toddler, but a handsome little boy. It's really showing how much you've grown, not only physically, but emotionally and academically. Every day you make me smile. Happy birthday, buddy. We love you so much!

Tuesday, March 2, 2010

Oh The Things 3-year Olds Say

And I can say that because he is still 3 for 19 more days. :)

1) This morning on our drive to school, Booker had these two little dinosaur rings from the top of a cupcake. Bodey had one in the car yesterday and asked me where his dinosaur ring was. I told him that I don't know, and I can't look for it because I'm driving.

Booker - "Bode, toys don't just get up and walk away."

So there.

2) A little while ago I noticed that Booker's fingernails never needed trimmed anymore and it finally donned (sp?) on me that he had been biting his nails. I asked him to try not to do that anymore, that when they got long I would trim them. Nothing much, just a little lesson. Fastforward two weeks. We were in the car on our ride home from school (I guess that's where all the fun conversations occur) when the following conversation started out of the blue:

Booker - "Mommy, I'm really sorry I bite my fingernails."
Me - "Honey, that's really ok. Just try to work on it and not do it so much."
Booker - "Wewelll... sometimes, at school, I get fwrusterated with the gurwls, and I bite my fingernails. But - that's ok, I can handle them. I can handle the gurwls."

Okie dokie.