Sometimes, the kids act like the sweetest things in the world, which they are, of course, at least for a few moments. Sometimes, they act like the devil's spawn, which they also are, at least for a few moments.
Take Matt. The other day, he was playing cars with me, zooming a Matchbox truck up my cheek, over my hair and back to another cheek, all while saying "Vroom!", smiling cherubically and looking at me with his beautiful brown eyes. I thought he was the greatest, and I also thought I'd never get another moment as sweet as this, even after he tried to make an imprint of the Matchbox car on my forehead.
But yesterday was a different story, one where Matt decided to spill his milk (on purpose), then proceed to play with it on his placemat, showing off the best and worst of his Moose-meets-Imp persona. Nice.
Today he decided to move at about MACH 1 and get into everything. Mostly he thought it was fun to tackle his big brothers, mostly when they were in timeout, raising the ruckus level another notch.
Good times. And I'm sure one day I will miss them.
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