He is "hive," (five). He is the reason I understand parenting is not about making your kids not only what you want them to be, but also who they are. He loves wii. Plays with more animation than I do most things-narrating and talking to the characters in the game the whole time. He is loud. Noisy. Sticky. Stubborn. Wickedly funny. Adorable.
He almost never remembers to flush the toilet. He misses about 40% of the time. He doesn't like taking the time to lift the seat, so I sit in his sprinkles more often than I'd like to share. He wipes only when we reminded, but I think this is because of his perfect little butt he almost always has a clean break type-of-poop, and so he doesn't totally get the necessity of wiping. He's insanely picky about socks, and shoes- they can't be the least bit "wiggly" or he'll freak... and sit there doing it over and over until he gets it right. He would live in his cowboy boots if I let him. I think he'd sleep in them. As he sits on the floor in the entry hall of school switching into his classroom shoes I have told him, "If I wanted a teenage girl, I would have had one." This is our dynamic.
See the temporary tatoos? He applies those himself, from his secret stash. Uses my good kitchen towels, and gets the bathroom floor soaking wet every time. Hands full of marker stains-match the ones I scrubbed of the hard wood floors this week. He could color all day. Sometimes does. Picks out his own clothes- and don't try and fight him if he wants to wear his neon orange basketball shorts that have not really fit for 2 years-even if it's 40 outside. He loves to eat. He likes, "Muh-in-ez," (muffins), "kee trips," (cheese strips), "hear-ee-uhl," (cereal), and, "host with pray butter," (toast with spray butter). Has to have mustard with everything. He eats spicy white queso (kee) and tortilla chips (tor-tee-uh hip-ez) every single day. Never finishes a whole apple, and hides the rest from me in random places- like behind furniture. You would not believe the places I have found banana peels.
He is a comedian. He's telling dad in the car, "Hee dat pink trash can? Ben would like dat. Cuh it is pink." He's singing, "Ben ih a gurl, Ben ih a gurl. Oh yeah. Oh yeah."
He'll tell you off- with attitude. And most of the time, only we know what he's saying for sure. He struggles with the last sounds we typically learn- s-f-ch-sh-th-l and a few others. When he's done fighting you on the issue (and mom and dad have usually won) he'll end it with "Hine!" and stomp off. He makes deals with dad, and holds dad super-accountable. Most recently, the bad word deal. Stemmed from us constantly telling Hunter not to use bad words, but his argument that dad "u-ez dem all the hime." If dad doesn't use bad words, Hunter won't. If dad does, Hunter repeats him. Nothing is off limits, if he's heard it, he'll say it- doesn't help we both laughed the first time we heard him say, "muh-der hucker." We're terrible parents. Not really, but in terms of convention- we are not. Not conventional. I mean, after we leaughd we lectured him on how swearing is sin, and in some places it is even against the law and he could go to "hail." Hunter? Didn't really care.
Hunter fears nothing.
Well, okay, he does fear some things. He is afraid of the dark- so he sleeps with the light of his fish tank and a nightlight grandma bought him that projects the solar system on the ceiling. He is afraid to be alone. He won't go upstairs to get something without someone with him- most of the time. On a really bright sunny quiet day, and there's something he really wants, he'll go up. But he hurries. And forget coming downstairs in the middle of the night to pee. We hear him wake up his "bruder," and make him go with. Sometimes when he is watching a movie with Ben he runs in the other room and tells Ben to tell him when the scary part is over. And the one time we had a snake in the basement, he would not go down there and see it. In the yard- he loves them. In the basement- not so much.
He loves to cuddle. He has the squishiest cheeks and I swear they have healing powers. He makes these adorable little squeeky sounds when he cuddles. He has to sleep right up against his brother, usually wraps his arms around him. Up until this summer he climbed in bed with me every night and slept face to face, with his arms wrapped around my neck. He dances all the time. Rocks out, and makes up songs. He knows the words to many commericals, radio songs, etc. and will sing all day long with serious rythym and 'tude. He's passionate about his clothing choices. He is very random. And extremely inquisitive. He is adorable. Charms the 'hit outta every one he meets. He loves baseball and has a ton of "raw talent," dad says. He's boundless energy, creativity, entertainment, love.
He's our Hunter Joe. And I am so glad.
