Magic

Our days have been filled with magic the last couple of weeks. Maybe it's because summer is winding down or maybe we've finally hit the deliriously hot portion of the year, and we need these little bits of magic to keep us sane. Whatever the reason these moments are firing rapidly at us right now, I'll take it. And cherish every single bit.

Your oldest cousins and aunt Jen came to visit last week, and the magic began. Having those two kids around is good for my soul. They're kind and smart and really (really!) funny. They're always up for an adventure and make our days so sweet. You're completely smitten with both of them, and they play with you oh-so well. If they'd just move in next door, we'd really have it made. Jackson taught you a bit of magic while he was here. After eating breakfast, the three of you climbed in your crib (one of your latest obsessions is to pile your bed full of people) and talked and laughed for a good 30 minutes. Jackson started pretending to grab his eyeballs with his hands, close his eyes, put his "eyeballs" in his mouth and chew them around and then spit them back into his hands, push them back into his eye sockets and open his eyes. Magic! He was certain you were duped. I was too, actually, until the day after they left I looked back in the car and you, with closed eyes and a chomping jaw, said, "Look, Mama! I ate my eyeballs!" Maybe you're magic too.

Your dad had a conference to go to for work, and this time we got to tag along. It's the first time we've taken a trip truly just the three of us. And it was your first time at a hotel. Your dad headed up early to get registered and checked in, so we road tripped down to San Antonio after nap, and while it was so nice of your dad to get everything settled for us, I wish we could have all arrived together so someone else could have first-hand witnessed your excitement. The only thing you know about hotels is that your cousins Jake and Hudson stay at one when they come to Austin, and you think that's cool, but you have no idea what the word hotel really means. When we drove up to this place you were shocked. "That the hotel, Mama?!" I tried to explain to you that not all hotels are that gigantic (or have waterslides), but I'm pretty sure this is your status-quo now. We stepped off the elevator (or the alligator as you called it all weekend), and you shouted, "OH. MY. GOSH. Mama, this is a hotel!" I think it might have been the carpet that got you so excited, but I really can't be sure. You hit the ground running wondering if every brown door was our brown door. We headed immediately for the pools, and it was a little fish's heaven. There were pools and water slides and a lazy river, and I think you could have just moved right in. You went down the water slides without hesitation and were so enthused by every little thing. We swam way past your bedtime and then headed up for bath and room service. You thought it was down-right hilarious that some man came in your room with a cart full of dinner, "Oh thank you, man. Thank you for my dinner!" He wasn't sure quite what to do with the pants-less child running after him. You slept like a champ on a roll-away, and my absolute highlight was finding you standing by my bed in the morning. I said, "Hi, buddy. You're awake. Wanna jump in my bed?" to which you immediately hopped up and started repeating, "Thank you, Mama. Thank you for saving a pillow for me in your bed. I love it." Every part of our mini-vacation was filled with so much love and excitement, and I cannot wait to take you back there someday, especially when your dad can really hang with us. We had way too much fun.

Yesterday we ran into Santa at the grocery store. Sorry to bury the lead. I guess I should have started the magic there. We were waiting in line to use our "Buddy Bucks," and this plump, white-bearded, jolly fellow walked up and gave you and the girl ahead of you five extra Buddy Bucks. You couldn't believe it. You said, "Oh thank you, thank you, thank you!" about a million times, and when he went back to grab his groceries from his cart in line you continued to shout, "THANK YOU!" across the aisle to him. He walked back over and pulled out a drivers license-looking card that had a picture of him dressed as Santa and his North Pole address. You were a bit confused until he handed you a coin and read aloud the inscription, "I caught you being good." You were so excited that Santa thought you were a good boy. And I was so thankful he reinforced your sweet behavior. The girl in front of us grabbed the buddy bucks out of his hand while her mom looked on annoyed. He didn't give her a coin. And we got to have a really good conversation about manners because of it. Magic, sweet boy. We're surrounded by magic.

And last, but certainly, not least - you asked to call your GiGi and then later your dad to tell them about your Santa encounter, and after we got off the phone with your dad I asked if there was anyone else you'd like to call and tell before we started bedtime stuff. You said, "Paul Bunyan." What??? I kept my cool and called your uncle Kevin, of course. He played right along talking about his blue ox, Babe, and chopping down trees. You were wide-eyed and glowing the entire conversation. You asked him how his cave was (no idea what you're talking about here) and used every moment possible to say Paul Bunyan, "Hello, Paul Bunyan. I'm Charlie, Paul Bunyan. You live in your cave, Paul Bunyan? Goodnight, Paul Bunyan." I'm certain we'll be calling Paul Bunyan on heavy rotation now that it's an option. Your uncle's gonna have to do some serious research. He's got the voice down pat though, so that's a good start. I'm pretty sure you think this is exactly how the world works - joy, love and laughter. I wouldn't have it any other way. It's magic.

Small Bits

Several times throughout the day, I think, "Oh man, I'm never gonna forget that," and then by the time I go to jot it down, the memory has vanished. You do so many awesomely funny things, and I'm constantly so amazed by your growth, language and memory that I guess it's impossible to hold on to them all. But I want to remember that...

I love to listen to you eat. That's weird, right? But you have the sweetest little smack, and the shear volume of food you can fit in your mouth is unbelievably impressive.

Your singing, O.M.G. Your singing. You sing everywhere and anywhere and all the time, and I love it. You sang, "Happy Birthday" to me almost through our entire shopping trip yesterday. "Old MacDonald" is another classic favorite, and you sing it oh so well. You normally get a little caught up on the moo, moo here and moo, moo there. You love the song "Tongue Tied" by GroupLove right now. I came back from Coachella mildly obsessed with them, and now you have to listen to that song when you get in the car. You call it by name and sing right along picking up new words every time we listen. You also love "Kickdrum Heart" and "Boxcar" . The song "Stay with Me" is your go-to sad song, and you love telling everyone who will listen, "This boy is so sad. He say, Stay with me cause his girl's going bye-bye." You're not too enthused by rap music, and sometimes it makes your dad want to cry.

Whenever you see a white-haired, older gentleman you shout, "Hey Grandpa!"

The imagination is running wild right now - a towel becomes a boat and then a racecar and then a bulldozer all in a matter of minutes. You love to pull your dad and me right into whatever world you're living in and get so excited when we start playing along. It's probably my favorite thing about this age right now. It's beautiful to watch your mind at work. True magic.

Our morning walks have turned into your morning rides, and you're getting so quick on your bike that Stan and I are running to keep up with you. You're our own little personal trainer. Stan's not too keen on the quick pace most mornings, but it's just way too fun to see you speeding around the block. You still run everywhere so purposefully and unbelievably quickly, unless there's a baby. Oh baby...

Babies stop you dead in your tracks. It's the most unreal thing. Luckily, all our friends have or are about to have new babies at their houses because you are smitten. Baby Rocky is your very best friend right now, and there's not a day that passes that you don't ask about him or what he's doing. You pretend that your baby doll is him and tote him all around the house - feeding, changing his diaper, and putting him to sleep. It's true love. And babies at the park better watch out. You're on them like glue. Almost obsessively. Someday sweet boy, some day we'll make you a big brother. Hold fast to that baby love until then.

We had a minor (seemed major in the moment, but don't they always?) rough patch this summer, but we're back on track. You make me laugh every single day. Lets never stop.