Can’t really see it, but he’s wearing a Robert Smith shirt and making my heart melt!
On the way to Baby Q and Cyrus’s birthday party!
He tries to play hard to get with Wendy because she’s blond (and blonds make him blush faster than Snooki’s neighbors programmed CPS into their phones), except when she was the only one willing to teach him how to play pool on Saturday.
Birthday boy Cyrus!
He went to three haunted houses this weekend, which is good since he started his OWN HAUNTED HOUSE JOURNAL! Oh my god, you guys. Oh my god. I don’t think I’ve ever been prouder of him! However, the one I took him to last night really shook him up. He didn’t cry, but he was super pissed off at me. I can only imagine what that particular entry is going to be like.
Persevering through the Dick Ages (3-5) really paid off because six has been a pretty epic age so far. Six-year-old Chooch is totally my bro.
Even though he totally drew this Friday night:
At least he didn’t draw me fat.
Is that a broken heart? Because if it is, I’m happy that it’s closer to the anatomical heart. I love Chooch’s hair like that, btw.
Haha, it IS a broken heart. He went on to draw a picture of Henry’s ass putting a whisk into a drawer. It was a weird night.
Oh and thanks! It’s kind of a quiff, the best I can do with how his hair is right now. I was helping him change shirts the other day and he yelled, “Watch my quiff!!” OK, tiny hipster!
You give me hope that my kids will eventually pass out of the asshole phase too. She’ll be six next year, and I’m keeping my fingers crossed.
There are still times when I’m like “Ugh! Parenting! FML!!” but it has REALLY gotten better. I cry a lot less now!
Hang in there!!