This is my baby. This is my adventerous little man. I wanted a cuddly baby, but that’s not who God gave me. He’s eight months old and he’s already racing away. He’s a racecar, he stops to grab my leg ever few minutes, but he doesn’t want to be picked up. Just checking tire pressure and jumping back into the the excitment of the race.

That Guy I Married laughs and sings The Bear Went Over The Mountain when I pick the baby up. I pick him up, he climbs up my shoulder until I have to hold him to keep him from launching to the floor. Then he climbs back to my lower arms and leans for me to put him down. He stands on the floor, and then reaches up to try to climb me again.

Rinse and repeat.
I guess that’s how I know that I’m the one he needs.

The bear went over the mountain to see what he could see,
but the other side of the mountain was all that he could see,
so the bear went over the mountain to see what he could see,
but the other side of the mountain was all that he could see.

The Duck climed over the Mama to see what he could see…
Happy Love Thursday