In an attempt to restart this chronicle of all things Jacob related, I am posting this which has apparently been sitting in “draft” status for going on two years now. I’m nothing if not efficient.
Uh huh, so mama sucks. We knew this, right?
1. Has a job
2. Has your dad (job #2)
3. Has trained for and ran 4 half marathons (job #3)
4. Has running blogs to read, episodes of The Big Bang Theory to watch and Reese’s cups to eat.
So, DAMN IT, I’m trying, okay?
Anyway, you went and turned 3 on me. You are a hilarious little creature. You are speaking much more now despite my fear that you were lagging behind a tad. You changed baby-sitters and are now with some of the same kids, but some new kids and a new lady. You call her Lala. Which frankly I think is adorable. You are one of the most defiant little people I have ever landed my eyes upon. Just this morning, your dad told you to NOT go into the street, you plopped your fat little foot immediately adjacent to said street, and then ran out into it. All while giving your dad the visual flip off through your eyeballs. I promise you, it is only your adorableness that keeps you from the local orphanage.
Your most favorite people in the fake world are Dora and Diego. You call them Nenna and Go Go Go. The Nenna came from your love of all things Wrenna, your cousin. Now all little girls are either “baby” should they be smaller than you or “Nenna” should they be your age or bigger. Hair color and other characteristics mean nothing. Girl = Nenna. As for Go Go Go, the name of the show is “Go, Diego, Go” and I choose to believe you are just being efficient and leaving out the “die” part.
You absolutely adore playing outside. You like slides, and are starting to grow into liking swings. Initially, you just used to toss yourself on them stomach-side down and swing like that since you were blessed with short legs like mama and hoisting yourself up on some of the taller swings proved to be difficult. Lately, however, I have noticed you swinging big boy style and I love it. You go “Help me, mama!” if you need a push. It’s pretty cute. You also love to play with other little kids. One of your most endearing qualities is your affinity for joining in others’ games and they perhaps have no idea that you are playing. BUT YOU ARE. Running around behind them, shrieking, not really concerned with the rules or whether they acknowledge that you are playing. You just keep on going. I’m sure there is a life lesson in there somewhere, but I’m too tired right now to search that one out.
One of the things that makes Jake Jake that I would like to alter or change somewhat is your early morning wake up. With the recent fall back time change, you now have taken to some mornings getting up at 4 am. 4 AM. FOUR. A. M. And you want to sit and bounce on me and discuss what you are watching on “Nenna” and holy shit, Swiper is trying to swipe and also, here is some Play Doh, wanna make an octagon? Thankfully, because of the love, I rarely get super annoyed with you whereas if any other butthole had the nads to wake me at 4 AM and play with brightly colored dough, modern science can not quantify just how much of an ass beating I would unleash. I just go up front with you and go “uh huh” or “yeah, buddy” at the appropriate spot, try to sit in a semi-dark corner of the sofa and perhaps doze. It rarely happens because you have bat radar and if you sense me relaxing, that is immediately time to dive bomb my lap. Or my head.
You are much more little boy now than baby and even toddler. You are tall for your age. Last doctor’s visit, you measured a nice, healthy 40 inches, but that was a few months back and several of your pajama bottoms are capris now, so I’m sure that particular measurement is obsolete now. I need to press your little self against the wall this evening and get a measurement with a pencil and a tape measure or something.
One of your most favorite things to do is post-bath, you like to get in daddy’s and my bed and snuggle and watch your shows in there. You barely have your PJs on and you fly to the head of the always unmade bed and fling back the covers, drop your butt in there and go “mama, ah joos!” informing me in no uncertain terms that your evening libation will be taken in the boudoir – post haste. Slays me. But it’s nice because you frequently will allow me to hug you and snuggle while we watch Dora or Diego find something/save something/speak Spanglish whereas ordinarily, I have to beg for that since you are entirely too busy or you are just not feeling me that day, so take it elsewhere, lady.