Me: One, Two...
John: Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, Ten
I had just corrected Noah for saying "give it" instead of "please may I have it." John asked for something and I said what do you say. He looked at me and said, "give it!" (Normally, he answers with a very polite please.)
My nephew, Aiden, was with my mom and dad somewhere and said, "Look at that guy. His hair is all wound up just like John's."
Just after Christmas, Noah was getting a cough. In the middle of the night he woke up crying. I went into his room and he said "Something is stuck in my heart." I felt so bad for him. I finally convinced him it was in his throat. Later he told me he thought it was his tailbone in his throat.
John got choked on an orange and required a little hymlick to clear it out... When the orange came up, Noah was upset because John "threw up." He wasn't concerned John was choking, he was just worried about the "throw up" on the floor.
Noah was telling Greg something the other day. Greg was doing something else and didn't respond right away. So, Noah said "Oh for Pete's sake!"
John is a little funny about his food being mixed. For example, he likes ground beef and he likes beans, but if you mix them together in something, he doesn't want to eat it. I fixed ants on a log for them. John picked the raisins off and ate them, then he licked the peanut butter off, then he ate the celery. He just likes his food separate.
A lot of times when I put the boys to bed, this is what I hear:
Noah: Good night, John.
John: Good night, Noah.
Noah: I love you.
John: I love you.
So sweet!!! And if one of them doesn't answer, they just keep yelling it.
When John hurts himself, but it's not too bad, he'll look at me and say, "I okay."
Poppy loves to spoil his boys (and everyone really!). The last time we were there, he brought me home a Starbucks and he brought the boys each a hot chocolate. They were thirlled!
Friday, I took the boys to my doctor appointment with me. In an effort to keep them entertained, I had gotten them each a boxed milk. I was getting the straw in Noah's. Noah said he'd shake John's. So when I got Noah's ready, he wouldn't give me the other one. So, I just gave the first one to John. Afterall, they were the same. Noah threw a fit and tried to grab it from John... Both boys were screaming...in the waiting room...and squeezing the BOXED milk. Milk was squirting up John's nose, in his eyes, everywhere. It just kept squirting. I finally got control of the milk. They were both crying at this point. Then John was upset because his shirt was messy. We finally regained our composure and the rest of our visit was fine. I was however, a little worried that was a sign of things to come...
Yesterday, Greg had seen some deer in the field behind our house. He and Noah had been up and down the stairs several times trying to find the binoculars so they could go upstairs and look out the window at them. Pretty soon, I heard John at the bottom of the steps yelling "Open the door!! Open the door!!" He had yelled for a while. I couldn't figure out why Greg wasn't letting him in... I yelled to Greg and then realized he was upstairs, not downstairs. Poor little John couldn't keep up.
This morning, Noah was trying to get John to play something with him, but John was busy playing happily by himself. Noah finally said, "Okay, I guess you don't want to play with me anymore."
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