Slobs and Muscles

 

No matter how put together you look, if you spill something down the front of your shirt, you just feel like a slob.  Even if its water.  I mean, maybe I need a sippy cup?  How can I sometimes not be able to get water from my favorite Charleston, SC tervis tumbler into my mouth successfully?  How does the water sometimes completely miss my mouth and head south?  And then I don't realize some of it has gotten onto my chair seat until I get up and look like I've had an accident.

Way to stay classy, Estes.

Are my boys the only ones who must strip down and wrestle once a week?  Normally this happens on a Sunday night when we are having an at-home "family night."  Ty tells me that his muscles are getting small since he hasn't eaten his "bwocc-ly" in a while.

 
And for some reason I can not stop taking pictures of these little feet.  Everywhere we go his little feet just get me. 

Little feet in bowling shoes.

Little feet at a birthday party where he is by far the smallest.  But certainly not the smallest personality!  He came down the slides of the inflatable paradise in seconds, beating the bigger kids by mili-seconds, wild hair flying, every dimple showing with a big ole smile.

Or how about in the Pediatricians office where he asked the Dr. to come eat ice cream with us?  Of course, that was before Diphtheria and Chickenpox shots.  After that, he didn't even want a lolli-pop, furiously shaking that head and yelling "no!"  Nothing could get his mind off his little aching, still squishy arms with the neon orange band-aids that he wanted off immediately.  Well, until I stepped in gum in the parking lot, of course.  Then as I frowned and said, "its not funny" my boys proceeded to giggle all the way to the ice cream parlor. 

Again, way to stay classy with gum on your shoe, Estes.