Christmas Adventures Part 2

As I have blogged before, this was the first Christmas where little man understood all the fun things like Santa, reindeer, presents and the big family gathering with aunts, uncles and, of course, grandparents.

Christmas Eve little man awoke full of excitement. He knew it was the beginning of Christmas. He could barely sit still all morning and by the time we loaded up the car to head to Grammy Jo and Papa's house, he was about to explode.

After a fun night of playing with Uncle Lambo and Aunt KK and a tummy full from our Christmas Eve feast, little man did what I'm sure every other household in America with a toddler does on Christmas Eve - put out cookies and milk for Santa and sprinkle reindeer food outside on the snow.

After all, reindeer get hungry, too. Why should Santa be the only one to get treats?

{it was really just oatmeal and glitter, but fun nonetheless}

And after little man was nestled all snug in his bed, while visions of sugar plums danced in his head, the adults scrambled to put together little man's Christmas surprise.

I stuffed his stocking full of books, toys and candy.

Uncle Lambo braved the cold night to scoop up the reindeer food and leave hoof prints in the snow.

And daddy and Papa assembled the BIG surprise.

The Santa present.

The gift that little man had been pining for.

The present he so proudly told Santa he wanted for Christmas.

Spike, the Ultra Dinosaur.

When little man awoke on Christmas day, all of the adults were assembled, cameras in hand.

And as I brought little man up the stairs and turned the corner his eyes caught a glimpse of it.

He paused.

Then giggled.

Then exclaimed, "A DINOSAUR!"

He slowly walked to it, giggling the entire way.

Amazed, shocked and excited, little man didn't know what to do next.

Fortunately, daddy liked playing with Spike, too, and had already logged some playtime on it. He snatched up little man and began his tutorial of the remote control buttons.

As the morning passed and little man ate his fill of cookies and opened his new arsenal of toys, there was just one more surprise left.

Peering out Grammy Jo and Papa's glass front door, he stopped. His eyes began to sparkle.

And then, he pointed.

"The reindeer food is gone, momma," little man said with amazement. "The reindeer ate all the food."

He then turned to me with a smile. His face gleamed.

"Yes, buddy," I said. "Santa's reindeer came and ate it all up."

Cowboy Up

It was a dark and bitterly cold night. When suddenly, I heard a sound. On the horizon I saw someone approaching. The dark figure was a bit small in stature, with a hat black as night ...

He rode a gallant steed, pure black but for a small white diamond on his broad head and a scarlet bandanna around his neck...

As he got closer I got a better look at this stranger ... would he be friend or foe?

Definitely friend. It was a cowboy - passing through on his horse. Where he was going to? Only he knew ...

And just as quickly as he came, he left. Disappearing into the night ...



And as I watched him gallop past and onto his mysterious destination, he paused just long enough for me to get a look at him.

And then he tipped his hat to me and went on his way.
The cowboy way.

Birthday Countdown ... The Conclusion

When I left my first Birthday Countdown post, I was leading up to little man's super-fun, so exciting it can't even be wrapped, big boy birthday present.

A gift that heralded little man's official transition (at least in mommy's eyes) from baby to big boy.

A gift that meant moving the family heirloom rocking horse out of his room to make way for his new big boy present.

So, without further adieu, I give you ...

{Nemo}

{And Dory}

{the fishies}

When I was growing up, we always had pets. My childhood is filled with memories of our own fish tank, my hamster and the many dogs that have been a part of my life. Even though we do have our lovable family dog, Casper, I wanted little man to have something of his own. And after many hints, discussions and me promising I would take full responsibility for the new aquatic family members, my husband finally acquiesced. Then again, I also know full well that in his mind he rationalizes it as the lesser of two evils, being as my first little man pet campaign involved talk of a new puppy.

And, as heartbreaking as moving the rocking horse into the basement was (at least until we have reason to move it back out again), my sadness was quickly turned to joy when I saw little man's eyes light up when we introduced him to his new fish tank, which now sits where his rocking horse did.

"Fishies!" He squealed. "MY fishies!"

He then promptly named them Nemo and Dory.

And so our little family has grown once again. And at night when I tuck little man in, there are now two new family members I must also say goodnight to as I turn off the light and shut little man's door.

Happy Holidays from me, my husband, little man, Casper
and Nemo and Dory.

Birthday Boy!

{Birth Day!}

{First Birthday}

{Second Birthday}

{Third birthday and third piece of cake, hence the sugar gaze and no fork}

Birthday Countdown

The cake has been ordered.

The presents have been wrapped (at least the ones we could wrap).

The celebration has been planned.

And little man is increasingly aware that his birthday is Sunday.

Too bad he was just diagnosed with croup AND strep.

My poor baby. Talk about a way to ring in your third birthday, eh?

One thing little man will have to deal with throughout his life is the fact that his birthday is just four days before Christmas. As such, I am almost militant about making his birthday special - no Christmas wrapping paper on birthday presents. No Santa birthday cakes. No Christmas/birthday dual gifts.

None. Of. It.

Little man is almost hyper-aware this year that his birthday is upon us.

"Mommy, my birthday coming," little man said to me the other night.

"I know, what do you want for your birthday?" I asked.

"Birthday cake. I want cake," he said.

Fortunately for me, there will be a Cars birthday cake awaiting me at the bakery Friday at Noon.

There is also a super-exciting, so special it can't even be wrapped, birthday present hidden in our house.

A present that marks the fact that little man isn't a baby any more.

A present that may even top Santa's Spike the Ultra Dinosaur on Christmas morning.

What is it?

To be continued ...

Santa

"I want a dinoswaur for Christmas, Santa."

{Little man and his friend Avonte' at their preschool Christmas party}

The Division Between Us and Them

One of my favorite stories (and probably my most popular blog post) is the post An Ode to the Moms of Boys. In it I become ever-so-aware that there is still a very vast difference between boys and girls.

Like peeing while standing up.

The other night I was getting little man ready for his bath. Still in the throes of potty-training, I plopped little man on the toilet to go "pee-pee in the potty like a big boy" before getting into the tub.

"No mommy. I go pee-pee there," little man said as he pointed to the bathtub next to him.

"No, we go pee-pee here, on the potty," I replied.

"No mommmmmmmy!" Little man said. "I want to go pee there!"

Then little man (who was in his birthday suit) got off the toilet.

"I go like this .... pssssssssssssshhhhhhhh," he said as he acted out the act of ....

I think you get the idea.

I put him back on the toilet.

"No, we don't pee in the tub," I said between giggles. "We only go pee-pee in the potty."

"No, I pee in tub," little man said. "Like a boy. Girwls pee on potty."

I think I need to speak to my husband about this one.

Christmas Adventures Part 1

Over the weekend we ventured out to get our family Christmas tree. Little man was overly excited to hear the news, of course.

"We get Christmas tree?" Little man asked me.

"Yeah, we're going right now, let's go!" I said.

"YAY! We get Christmas tree for Santa!" Little man exclaimed.

When we found our tree and loaded it up, little man was even more excited than before. The entire ride home he told us all about how the Christmas tree was for Santa and how he wanted Santa to bring him a dinosaur for Christmas.

Later that night as I began bringing the barrage of Christmas decorations up from the depths of our basement, little man's excitement was almost too much for him to bare.

Of course, like any hard-headed, stubborn and testing toddler, little man insisted that he be the only one to put ornaments on the tree.

Too bad he didn't understand that you can't put all of the ornaments on the same branch, which was also approximately 3 feet from the bottom of the tree (aka perfect little man height).

He also didn't understand why mean old mommy wouldn't let him swing around and bang the German glass ornaments she received as a wedding present many years ago.

I know, I'm a fun hater.

But, nonetheless, little man took pride in placing every ornament (at least every non-glass ornament) on the tree. With daddy's sneaky sense and quick maneuvering from here to there, we even managed to rearrange some ornaments so that all of our ornaments weren't on the bottom third of the tree.

Then came the presents.

The next morning it didn't take little man long to zero in on the presents that had appeared underneath the tree.

The presents, all wrapped in red and green Tonka truck Christmas paper, were all little man could even think about.

And I found myself uttering what all mothers find themselves constantly repeating this time of year.

Don't Touch!

However, little man always finds a way. If he's sitting near the tree, just one little finger will reach over and touch the shiny red bow.

If I'm watering the tree, he will come to "help." He'll gladly pull all of the presents away from underneath the tree for me.

And of course shake them, flip them over and inspect them as he does it.

I like to think he really is trying to help ... but I'm on to him.

And somehow, just somehow, I will from time to time walk into the living room and find a little wrapped box in the middle of the floor ... little man sitting innocently on the couch, as if he had no idea how it got there.

"What's in in mommy?" Little man will ask as I slide the box back under the tree.

"You need to wait until Christmas to find out," I say.

"Oh, okay," little man answers. "I wait till Christmas."

{approximately 1 minute later}

"Mommy? What's in it?"

The Name Game: UPDATE

In a previous post, I wrote about my attempts (in vain) to teach little man our last name, which lead to a confusing discussion between little man and I about what my name was.

The good news is that little man can now pronounce my first name clear as bell.

The bad news is he thinks it's a cookie.

My mother-in-law couldn't resist buying a bag of Desiree cookies to bring to our Thanksgiving get-together. She was so surprised to see something with my name on it that she had to buy them.

The German wafer cookies were a tasty addition to our smorgasbord of treats. And the assortment of vanilla and chocolate cookies were a big hit with little man.

I nearly stopped in my tracks when he yelled from the living room "Mommy, I want a DESIREE cookie."

It was so clear. So perfect. Just a few weeks ago he couldn't even begin to pronounce it.

I was a proud mommy.

"Say mommy's name again," I said to little man.

He looked at me confused.

"Desiree," I said, prompting him along.

"Desiree COOKIE," little man said. "I want Desiree cookie."

He pointed into the kitchen.

"Mommy, I want Desiree cookie. Please."

I guess I should be thankful that at least he associates my name with something sweet ... even if he thinks I'm a cookie.

'Tis the Season

After having our fill of turkey and stuffing and learning all about the pilgrims (or, as little man calls them, "the cowboys") the Christmas season was definitely ushered in this weekend. My mother-in-law and I braved the crowds at Toys R Us on Black Friday to grab some Christmas goodies for little man and lived to tell about it (barely). The neighbors decorated their houses with wreaths and Christmas lights and driving through the neighborhood at night you can even see Christmas trees already up and lit. To top things off, we awoke to a yard full of snow and a few snowmen waving hello to us this morning ... and a very excited little boy who couldn't wait to play in said snow.

I wasn't still quite sure that little man would understand Christmas this year. His first Christmas he was just four days old. The next two Christmases were fun, but little man was definitely confused as to why there was a tree in our living room. He was even more confused when we placed the brightly colored boxes in front of him and told him to tear into them when for the last month he been expressly told NOT to touch them (or even think of touching them) AT ALL.

But this weekend I was pleasantly surprised to catch on that this year little man gets it.

It all started with a showing of The Polar Express on television. We thought it would be something fun for him to watch while us grown-ups finished our wine and chatted.

But it ended up being so much more.

Little man sat enamored throughout the entire movie - eyes wide open and mesmerized. When Santa appeared he let out a giant squeal and pointed to the screen "Mommy SANTA!"

Then I sat mesmerized, looking at my little boy. For the first time I witnessed what is probably the most fun, most exciting aspect of childhood ... Christmas.

My obsessive-compulsive and manic planning mind kicked into full gear. This was the year. The year when the magic of Santa would come to our house. There were stockings to be hung, cookies to be baked and would it be too much to climb on my roof with jingle bells on Christmas Eve and leave little reindeer footprints in our yard?

And yes, I really did think that.

Once the movie was over little man begged to watch it again. I was also struck with the appropriateness of the story of The Polar Express. I had forgotten, until I saw it in my son's eyes, about the magic of Christmas.

I bent down to little man and snatched him up.

"Is Santa coming to our house?" I asked him.

"Yeah, Santa's COMING!" Little man said.

"What do you want Santa to bring you?" I asked, crossing my fingers and hoping he would say the right thing to vindicate me to my husband who was skeptical that little man needed the overly expensive robotic dinosaur toy I had bought him.

"A dinoswaour," he said, smiling. "I want a dinoswaour."

As little man smiled, so did I. And as I looked up at my husband, he, too was smiling. Not because of the robotic dinosaur hiding in our basement, but because he too sensed the magic of Christmas in little man and was also suddenly transported back to the days of our childhood, when Santa was real. When Christmas was the most magical, most exciting time of the year.

This year is going to be fun.

And it didn't hurt that mommy was right about Spike the dinosaur, either.

You Need a What?

Last night when I picked up little man from preschool he had a bad case of hiccups. Not a real surprise, little man has always been very hiccupy, even before he was born. In utero he would get the hiccups at least twice a day, and usually at 3 a.m. or whenever I happened to have a real bad case of heartburn, making my pregnancy that much more enjoyable.

We were having our usual talk about what he did that day, what games he played, etc. on the car ride home. In between hiccups little man told me all about the letter J and how one of his classmates broke the toy train.

Then our usual, normal, everyday discussion took a turn for the ... strange.

"Goodness, you have a bad case of hiccups, huh?" I asked little man.

"Yeah," he said as he hiccuped again. "Just like Max."

{a reference to one of his favorite TV shows, Max and Ruby, in which Ruby deals with a bad case of hiccups in one episode}

"Mommy ... I need a beaver," he said.

{insert confused, blank mommy look here}

"You need a what?" I asked him to be sure I had heard him correctly the first time.

"A beaver."

The question was just begging to be asked ...

"Why exactly do you need a beaver?" I asked him.

"For my hiccups, to make them go away," he said.

I sat there, blank. I was unsure of what to do with this piece of information. I racked my brain trying to figure out what little man was talking about.

I wasn't even sure he knew what a beaver was.

"Do you know what a beaver is?" I asked him.

"Oh yes mommy, they're fuzzy," he said.

I continued our drive home in silence. Puzzled as to why little man thought a beaver would cure his hiccups.

We got home and little man ran inside to play. As I sat the table for dinner I looked over at little man.

"Still got those mean old hiccups?" I asked him.

"No," he said.

"Oh, did you find a beaver?" I asked him, joking.

"Yeah, I found him. He make hiccups go away," little man said nonchalantly.

I stopped in my tracks. My gaze went around the livingroom, looking for this magical hiccup-curing beaver.

Then I realized what I was doing, and stopped.

I was still dumbfounded, as was my husband, who couldn't help but to laugh at the discussion that had just ensued.

I meanwhile, fully intend on Googling beavers and hiccups in the morning ... However, on second thought, what might come up may be scarier than the notion of a giant beaver lurking in my house.

I wonder what he'll think up for the tooth fairy.

*******************

Happy Thanksgiving to you all!

As little man would say, "Tobble, Tobble!"

{"gobble, gobble"}

In Between

When little man was just a baby he was quite the snuggler. He loved to be placed on someone's shoulder, where he would then burrow in and snuggle as closely as he could. And it didn't have to be mama, he was an equal-opportunity snuggler and would happily cuddle with anyone and everyone. Put a blanket over him and he was sure to soon be drooling and snoring on you.

During those days I would often look at us in the mirror and be amazed at how small little man was. At just 7 pounds, he was quite the little ball of baby.

But those days have since blown past, and now at nearly 35 pounds, little man isn't quite as snuggly as he once was.

The other night I was getting little man ready for bed. After putting on his jammies I carried him downstairs for a good last 10 minutes of playtime with daddy. As I carried him down the stairs I came upon a mirror we have hanging in our foyer. I don't know why, but for some reason I was amazed when I saw our reflection. My once cuddly little ball of baby was now a big boy whose feet came down to my knees.

"Oh my goodness, you're getting so big," I said to little man.

"No, mommy, I'm not big," he said, looking up at me.

My heart warmed, thinking for sure little man would remind he was still just a little boy.

"That's right, you're my little guy," I said, kissing the top of his head.

"No, mommy, I'm not little," he said.

Mommy was confused.

"If you're not big and you're not little, then what are you?" I asked him, wondering what was going to come out next.

"I'm in between," little man said.

I sat, waiting for the "duhhhhh mommy" to come next, but thankfully little man had mercy on me.

And I then sat my little in between man down to play.

At Least He Looks Sweet & Innocent ...

The other day on the way home from preschool little man was telling me about the day's antics. Apparently he had a big fun day, but for one thing.

"William not my friend," little man said.

"Why not?" I asked little man, concerned.

"William hit me," he said. "He go time out."

I wasn't too surprised by this story, as any mother of a preschooler will tell you, preschool is rough. Hitting happens and emotions run high ... especially when there is only one toy school bus that all the kids seem to think they need to play with. (Fortunately there isn't a biter in this class, as there was at his old daycare. I'm still amazed little man made it out of that one with all of his appendages.)

However, I also know my little man. And although he is usually very laid back, content and easy going, he is also not known to simply be pushed around. He definitely has spunk. I knew there was more to the story.

"Buddy, did you hit William back when he hit you?" I asked him.

"Oh, yes mommy," little man said, his face gleaming with pride.

"I hit him. Miss Megan made me go time out. It made me sad," little man said.

"You deserved a time out. We don't hit our friends," I told him. "That's not nice."

"But William not my friend," little man said.

"We don't hit anybody," I said sternly. "No one. No hitting ... ever."

"But he hit me first," little man said.

"That doesn't matter," I replied. "We don't hit. You need to be nice to your friends."

"William not my friend," little man repeated. "Chloe, Lexi, Austin my friend."

"You need to be friends with William, and no hitting," I finally said. "Do you understand?"

"OK mommy," little man said reluctantly.

I continued driving on, thinking I had finally gotten through to little man. As I pulled up into our driveway I asked little man once more, "Now, we don't hit anyone, do we?"

"Oh yes, mommy. I hit him back," little man said, smiling.

{Note to self: Get preschool teacher something really nice for Christmas.}

The Name Game

It's funny how sometimes our normal, day-to-day routine and things that we, as adults, don't give much thought to can impact our children.

This week I had a very similar experience as my friend, Jenny. She also has a little guy, who is just a few days older than my little man. In her blog this week, she shares a discussion she recently had with her son, in which he informs her he does not want to be called any nicknames. That he is "Just A.J."

Tonight my husband had a dinner meeting and thus came home late, making it just the little man and I for dinner. We began discussing names and I worked with little man on pronouncing our last name - which is very unusual, complicated and thusly slaughtered by everyone.

Then little man asked me what my name was.

"My name is Desiree," I replied.

Little man sat there, silent and with a confused look on his face.

"No it's not!" He finally said. "You're funny, mommy."

Then I was confused. What, exactly did he think my name was?

"No, my name is Desiree," I said.

"No mommy, your name is Mommy!" Little man said. "Mommy Kwdddelwleeod." {Which was little man once again trying to pronounce our cursed last name.}

He was insistent that mommy was tricking him.

"And this is Cwasper," he said, pointing to our dog, Casper. "Cwasper Kwdddelwleeod."

I opened my mouth to correct little man and explain to him the differences between a title - mommy- and a name. But instead chose to keep my mouth shut and just bask in the wonderful light of being "Mommy."

Turkey 101

Now that Halloween is over, it is officially turkey time (even though some of our neighbors have already broken the cardinal rule of holiday decorating and already have their Christmas lights up AND on).

As such, little man has been learning about Thanksgiving at preschool. Today's fun activity was learning all about turkeys. I ran into little man's teacher on my way in to pick him up and she told me all about the fun turkey times they had had.

So, naturally on the ride home I took the time to ask little man about his day, as I usually do. He told me all about how Christian was gone today, but that he had played trucks with Chloe and Lexie. He even shared with me that the kids liked his new hat at outside playtime, which naturally features Lightening McQueen.

Then came the talk of turkeys.

"Turkeys are big birds," little man informed me.

"That's right," I said. "And how do they go?"

"Tobble, tobble," little man said grinning.

"And what else do you know about turkeys?" I asked.

"You EAT them!" Little man said.

I guess the old adage about the way to a man's heart is through his stomach really does ring true.

The Turtle

Each morning (well, at least each Monday through Friday) I am reminded that my once sweet, cuddly little baby boy has definitely grown up.

And I have a backache that keeps reminding me all morning long.

Little man is not a morning person. He gets that from his mama. My husband knows to pretty much avoid me until I am at least out of the shower. Any attempt at conversation before then and he is met with a look of death and an inaudible grumble. He is very much a morning person. Chipper, awake and ready to go. That makes it especially dangerous for him to be around me in the morning.

Although by nature my little man really is a very laid back, easy going, happy little guy, there is a whole different side to him in the morning.

We call it "The Turtle."

I know - you were probably expecting something a little more dark and ominous - like "The Beast" or "Satan's Toddler."

But trust me, you don't want to encounter "The Turtle."

"The Turtle" came to fruition as a result of the defensive move little man likes to deploy each morning when he doesn't want to get out of bed. He curls up into a little ball, legs underneath him, head pulled in, with his arms around him. Like a turtle in it's shell.

However, unlike a real turtle, there is no coaxing little man from this position. The only way to de-turtle little man is to pick him up and forcefully evict him from his bed.

And, I might add, it is a snapping turtle.

The minute you pick The Turtle up you are greeted with a wail - right in the ear no less - of eardrum-shattering proportions. Then a barrage of "NO!" and "I go back to bed NOW!"

This process really used to be a lot easier in the earlier days. However, now that little man is 35 pounds and nearly 3-feet-tall, my back is a constant reminder of just how much little man has grown over the last year. It's one thing to pluck a little 17-pound baby from his bed, but it's another to battle a 35-pound Turtle.

Especially when it's kicking.

And screaming.

And you're pretty sure you just heard your back pop in a spot you didn't even know had vertebrae.

Fortunately, once I have little man dressed and a waffle in front of him, he returns to his normal, chipper self. Just like mama.

And my gleeful, whistling husband knows it is safe to come downstairs and spread his morning cheer.

Voting

When I picked up little man from preschool he immediately noticed my "I Voted" sticker on my shirt.

"Mommy, you got sticker?" He asked me.

I had forgotten I even still had the sticker on.

"Oh, yes," I said looking down at it. "Mommy does have a sticker."

"You go pee-pee?" Little man asked me.

{His preschool gives stickers as rewards to all the little tots in the process of potty training when they do their business like a "big boy" or "big girl."}

"No, buddy," I said with a giggle. "Mommy voted today, which is why I got the sticker."

"Oh, OK," little man said.

I could tell he was deep in thought. His little mind was working on something.

"What is that mommy? Vooowting?"

I was stuck. How do you explain something like voting to a 2-year-old? There was so much I wanted to say, so much I wanted to teach little man, but knew that those lessons would have to wait a few more years.

"It's something grownups do," I finally answered, at a loss for words.

"Oh, OK," little man said, playing with my sticker. "I vote too?"

"Someday, buddy," I replied. "Someday."

Happy Halloween!!

Happy Halloween from my little DOGGIE!

All Hallow's Eve

Today is little man's first Halloween party! His preschool is having a party this afternoon and it was fun seeing all of the fellow kiddos arrive this morning with their treats and costumes. Chloe, little man's friend, proudly showed me her lady bug costume this morning. In turn, little man proudly proclaimed to his class that his mommy had brought jello jigglers for everyone. (I guess the way to a man's heart really is through his stomach.)

This is the first year little man has really been excited and/or "gets" Halloween. The first year he was just 10 months old. He had a habit of sitting hunched over and playing with his hands, almost like he was wringing them. This, in addition to his small size and lack of hair, quickly gave my husband and I the idea for his FIRST Halloween costume:

It was just too easy.

And too cute.

For the second Halloween my husband and I thought for sure little man would be more into it. He was now walking, talking and eating candy. He was almost 2 and we couldn't wait to take him around trick-or-treating. His costume of choice:

A dragon. Since he couldn't quite say the words "tick-or-treat," we taught him to instead say "Rawrrrrrrrrr!"

He was quite the hit. Until he would inevitably try to then take all of the candy out of the bowl and/or run inside their house to say "hi" to their "doggie."

And yes, that really did happen.

Thank goodness for understanding neighbors.

This year, however, is different. Little man knows Halloween is coming up and is very, very excited. Today's costume party is the first, with a second to follow at my office on Friday afternoon. Then, of course, the BIG night on Friday.

And this year, little man is most excited about his costume. A costume that he picked out all by himself. A costume that if we did not leave Target with would crush little man's heart and soul. A costume he begs to wear every night ...

...to be continued.

{I know, the fierceness of this dragon probably has you shaking in your boots}

{Onward Ho!}

{I hope they have the good candy at this house}

Footballers

As I mentioned on Monday, little man and I spent the weekend at my parent's house. My brother, Ryan (or as we call him, Lambo) and his wife, Kara (or Aunt KK), were in town to visit. My brother, a good K-Stater and Kara, a Sooner, call Texas home, but made the trip up to Kansas to visit family and catch the K-State vs. OU game.

Ryan and Kara are very much that couple. You know the ones - the ones that you know will some day be celebrating their 50th wedding anniversary. Although they don't have any children of their own yet, they were also made to be parents and love children. And little man adores them, as well.

My brother has always been the athletic one of the family. He tried in vain for many years to instill some kind of athletic ability in me, but it was to no avail. Today I justify it as saying that at least my parents had the best of both worlds: not only did they have a son and a daughter, but they also had one athletic golden child and one artsy, creative, definitely not athletic child.

In my baseball game post I briefly touched on this by mentioning that my brother was a great baseball player. However, although I'm sure he must have at least liked baseball to have played it all those years, his true love was always football.

For many, many years Ryan taught high school science classes and coached high school football. Which is how he met Kara, a high school Special Education teacher.

Little man just recently became interested in playing ball. Knowing that this trip was on the horizon I told him all about how his Uncle Lambo could teach him to catch that football just right.

Then that day came. The day when we would see Uncle Lambo and little man would take to the field in what was sure to be an ultimate pigskin match-up.

Lambo vs. Little Man.

But mommy forgot to pack a football.

Fortunately, she and Grammy Jo needed to go to the grocery store anyway. Good thing they also had Nerf footballs.

THEN the moment came. Little man's first football lesson.

{First came the introduction to the football}

{Then the basics of throwing and catching the football}

{And the art of the hand-off}

{Then impatience, an unfortunate by-product of being 2. So, little man simply stole the ball.}

{Game On!}

{Uh-oh. What do I do now? Maybe I should have gotten more lessons, after all.}

{I'll just hide behind this tree then}

{And if that doesn't work, I'll hit him with a stick. Football is a full-contact sport, isn't it?}

{And when I prove too much for Uncle Lambo, he'll send in Aunt KK!}

{She likes to tickle me}

{But I'm a gentleman. So I won't hit her with my stick. Instead I'll kill her with my cuteness.}

{And in the end, there was just one left standing victorious. It was a good game for all.}