Thanks for Asher

I've been thinking about doing a generic "What I'm Thankful For" post. But I've decided to go a slightly different route. I'm thankful for my kids. A lot. Every day. Most minutes of every day. So I think I will focus my thankfulness on them by telling you all about them. I'll start with Asher. (Why start with Asher, my middle child? Because I just snuggled with him so I am feeling particularly thankful for him.)

Asher is crazy. Wild. Rambunctious. And not that obedient. Or rational.

But he is also so sweet and loving. He often proclaims things "beautiful" or "adorable". He is a lover of dinosaurs and worms. When he plays with his cars, pretending they are alive and talking to each other, they often ask each other "Do you want to crash?", "Yes!", and they politely and violently crash into each other. Repeatedly.

Asher loves soft things. He is particularly attached to a blue baby blanket with polka dots on it. He calls it "blankety". He curls it into a ball and cuddles in his "nest". He loves to pretend to sleep. And he loves to have me tell him a story before he pretend sleeps. He always chooses the names for the characters in these stories. He picks two random syllables and makes that the name. Poo-ku, Ka-nee, Wa-tee, etc. (I really love it when he does that because when Naomi was in that phase is when she re-named Isaiah to Poochy.)

During "naptime" Asher doesn't sleep. He plays wildly in his room. Every time I take him up to his room for naptime I have to open his blinds - so he can watch the cars and trucks zoom past, bring him a sippy cup of milk, and set up a train track to his exact specifications. He zooms cars, talks to his stuffed animals, hides under Isaiah's crib, yells just for fun, throws things, tries to trick Naomi into talking to him through the wall (which he knows will get them into trouble), occasionally falls asleep, and reads his "magazines" (catalogs usually containing toys).

Asher loves breakfast. His favorite breakfast is "Fruity O's", a generic Fruit Loop. He eats them on and off again until about 9:30 or 10:00 when it's snack time. Asher likes lunch alright, too. He eats his sandwiches kind of like a watermelon - leaving a thin trail of crust on his plate and a huge smear of jelly on his face. Asher usually skips dinner. He comes to the table when told, looks things over, then usually proclaims he's not hungry and walks away. I refuse to fight him on it.

Asher has reached the "talking non-stop" phase of childhood. His constant babble in the car gets me into trouble sometimes because I readily agree to things when I'm not really listening and then he tries to hold me to it later in the day.

Asher loves to play with Naomi. They play secret spies or hide n seek or race cars together. Sometimes they let Isaiah join in too. But Asher does not play with Isaiah when it's just the two of them. They just play near each other or torture each other. Asher and Isaiah even manage to have arguments, despite the fact that Isaiah doesn't speak! I sometimes wake up to the two of them yelling at each other. "Yes!" yells Asher. "No!" yells Isaiah. And back and forth and back and forth. When I go in there I find that Asher has made up some reason why they originally started fighting which usually involves Isaiah having insulted Asher in some not-possible-since-he-doesn't-speak kind of way.

Asher is a Mama's boy. It has to be Mom who helps him with his PJ's and puts him to bed. It has to be Mom who washes his hands or zips his coat. But when Mom is gone, then Dad will do.

Asher is a little hard to parent. He tries my patience more than anybody else. But I love him so much. He's so sweet and soft, even when he's sour and prickly. He just wants to be loved, just like everybody else in the world. I can always love the grumps right out of him. He loves to be violently tackled and hugged. He loves it even more when I sneak up behind him then tackle him, hug him and kiss him. He's such a great kid.

(I feel a little bit like I just wrote some kind of ad trying to sell my Asher. That is NOT the case. You can't have him! He's not for sale! He's mine!)