So this morning starts off with a bang; crying baby, whiny three year old and then it does a total 180. The baby turns into a big, smiley lug and his big brother starts acting as goofy as ever. Both boys are going off in separate directions today, one with one grandma and one with another.
Their Gigi gets to the house to pick up the baby and he’s as happy as a clam, dressed head to toe in a brand new Adidas track suit (he looks like he blew straight out of the 90’s). We get the baby situated and then they’re off and my big boy is ready to head over to his Bumma’s. He picks up his new backpack and loads it up with a bunch of trucks, blocks and whatnot and throws it on his back. We make it no further than the front door and he says, “Momma, this thing is killing me!” (in reference to his heavy backpack).
We get into the car and he climbs his way into the front seat with some of the baby’s rubber keys and proceeds to “start the car” with them. I buckle him up and we hit the road only for him to freak out that we left behind the dog, as if she would want to take this wild ride. Down the road we go and he’s repeatedly asking “where are we?” I’m not sure what kind of response he’s looking for since the town name, street name and the car weren’t good answers. Next we’re on to the knock, knock jokes which I’m not positive he grasps the concept of yet…
“Knock, knock, banana’s there.”
“Knock, knock, guess who it is!”
“Knock, knock, orange is there.”
“Knock, knock, truck is there. People riding on the truck is there.”
He is such a hilarious, little handful.