One afternoon I was sitting on the dock while David played in the sandy area on the bank of the lake. Thomas was draping himself over my legs, doing that three-year old thing where he readjusts every two seconds or so, trying to get just a little closer to mama. David and Caleb were both
Thomas was standing on the pool stairs, bending his head backwards into the water. When he stood straight, his hair was all slicked back. His curls, when wet, reach his shoulders, and his hair is so blonde on top it almost looked like he was bald with a mullet. “You guys, look how funny Thomas’s
Thomas walks up to me, gives me a big hug and says, “This is the best mommy ever!” I lean down, hugging him back, “Thomas! You think I’m the best mommy ever? Thank you!” Thomas pulls away, confused, “No, Mommy, my TIGER is the best mommy ever.”
On the morning of Thomas’s birthday he woke up at 6 a.m. Everyone else was still asleep, and instead of doing what his siblings would have done at his age — stay in bed and scream until someone got him — Thomas got up, quietly walked around our house, then came into my room and
In the middle of a spontaneous walk that ended up being admittedly too ambitious, foolishly close to lunch time, and with a stroller that was much too small to be of any help, Thomas decided he was done. He stopped, laid down in someone’s yard and yelled, “I can’t walk, Inna go ni-night!” I did
Thomas was filling a cup of water one day, when some water splashed on his sleeve. (A quick aside: Thomas enjoys the privilege of getting his own cup of water ONLY because he is in the unique position of having a six-year old brother and a 6-month old sister. He sees his brother doing six-year
Now that David is in school all day, Mary Virginia and Thomas have no choice but to play together. They play really well, but they also fight. A lot. I’ve never actually kept track, but I feel pretty safe saying that the time they spend fighting outweighs the time that they play by at least
We spend most mornings doing dignified things like practicing our table manners, reciting the larger catechism, and discussing foreign films. But on this particular morning it was unseasonably warm. Thomas went outside in his normal uniform — no pants, no shoes, and his favorite hand-me-down orange shirt. He ran around pretending to be a bird,
Recently Thomas hit some sort of verbal milestone. He’s been talking in sentences for a while, but now he’s putting together real sentences, not baby sentences. For example, instead of saying “I go OUSSIDE!” Now he says, “Mommy! I want to go outside!” Since he’s our third child, phrases like, “She did it on PURPOSE”
Thomas has this funny habit of insisting we only call him Thomas. Do you have any idea how many other things you call your kids? If we say, “You’re such a big boy!” Or if I gather him in my lap and say, “Are you Mama’s sweet boy?” He corrects me — “No, I not.