I haven’t written about mini Gwinn’s shenanigans in a while, in part because said shenanigans keep me away from the computer for days at a time. But here are some pretty rad things little dude is up to these days.
He is SUPER into painting lately. And it’s adorable to hear him say “paint” all day, even when we’re in an elevator at the doctor’s office, or at the store, or when he first wakes up. If I let him, he’ll paint for hours. I’ve started mixing up “bath paint” as well- 1 part finger paint to 3 parts shaving cream, and he paints the bathtub.
He’s learning shapes and colors these days (organically, I’m not pushing a “sit down” education with him, he’s way too busy to sit still), and his favorite shapes to identify are stars and circles; his favorite color to find is “puh-poo” (purple). He was even painting circles with his shaving cream and paint brush in the tub last night. I’m a proud mama. He’s clearly a Dali or Van Gogh in the making (just kidding. All kids are special, yadda yadda yadda, and I don’t want him to be as tortured as Van Gogh).
He makes “girlfriends” every where he goes, as in, flirts with women, shamelessly. He talks to them, bats his eyelashes, tucks his chin to his chest, and waves goodbye. In rare instances, if he really likes the lady, he shows off by doing something really weird, like laying down on the ground or squatting. He gets his awkward flirting skills from his father.
He doesn’t know what to do with bullies. A couple times last week some bigger kids pushed him down and yelled at him, and he had no idea what to do. The bigger boy really hurt his feelings, and he ran to me, so I yelled at the piece of crap kid. I may or may not have said to my own son, in front of the crap kid, that I would punch him if he didn’t have a mom (another mom overheard this and got a hearty belly laugh). Just a few minutes later I saw this loser kid push another small toddler and his mom did nothing. Maybe I need to start punching people, instead of just thinking it. My sisters tell me I hit like a guy. It may do everyone a world of good to get a kidney punch. Any way. Call me crazy, but it warms my heart a little bit to see that my little guy is still tender and sweet enough to not hit back. Granted, when he’s old enough, I’m going to tell him what I heard my parents say: Don’t you ever start a fight, but you better finish it if someone starts it with you. And I’ll teach him how to use the heel of his hand to jam it into a bully’s nose. And indoctrinate him that Captain America is the superhero to emulate. Stand up for the little guys. Mind your manners. And kick serious tail when required.
Ok, I’m digressing. He also has started throwing tantrums. But about stupid, stupid things. Like putting on clothes if we need to go out. He screams and kicks about putting on a clean tee shirt, or a new pair of sweatpants, kicks and screams all the way down the stairs to the car, throws himself on the ground when I attempt to put on his shoes, and then once he’s buckled into his seat, acts as if the tantrum never happened. This is not something I find cute or redeeming, but it’s something he’s doing that’s new nonetheless, and I’m sharing it with you all. One of my sisters likes to tell everyone that my kid is so perfect even his poop doesn’t stink, so I’m telling you all: he’s only mostly perfect. He throws tantrums and refuses to eat his vegetables, just like every other twenty six month old.
He’s a big fan of wrestling. And I love picking him up by an arm and a leg and throwing him on our bed, tickling him, or pinning him down and tousling his hair. If it’s one area where I totally know what I’m doing in motherhood, it’s wrestling with my little guy. I feel badly for boys that don’t get this from their parents. Boys need the physical interaction and outlet, and there really isn’t anything so sweet as his peals of laughter filling the air in our four walls.
Mini Gwinn is also becoming more snuggly, oddly enough. He’s never been a cuddly kid, but he has several moments a day where he runs into my legs and bear hugs them, or wants to be held so he can wrap an arm around my neck with his little fingers in my hair, or when he grabs my cheeks and pulls me in for a lippy kiss (yes, lippy kiss. They’re the sweetest, goopiest, wet little lip kisses. And they’re my favorite.). When he’s first waking up or going down for a nap, he likes to lean against the railing of his crib with his head on my chest for a sweet hug. I love his chaos (most of the time), but those moments of affection just melt me totally.
In other news, my doc warned me of bed rest in my near future, as well as a more restrictive support brace, and potentially early inducing for delivery. I’ll write the full update when I’ve got a hot cup of coffee and more free time.