Call It What You Want...

First of all, there's the big boy and his vehicles.

We're on a walk a few days ago, and we walk past one of a gazillion driveways in our neighborhood, one of probably a zillion with cars (even dark-colored ones) in the driveway, and Mark says "Gram-pa car". So I called to ask just what kind of car my father drives (because *I* don't know). Mark knows, though -- Chevy Lumina. Which is the car we passed.

Then he was playing in the window the next day and he announced "P-S! P-S truck." It first made me pause because that pairing of letters sounds a lot like his word for a certain body part that he is fairly proud of, and I wasn't sure what sort of truck was out there that pertained to that... He said it again, even pointing out the window, so I looked. There, coming to the door, was a man in brown, bearing a package from the UPS truck. Yes, he even had the brand of the package delivery company correct. My friends who work for UPS would be proud.

Lest you think I'm just going to tell stories without including any pictures... HA!

How could I possibly be this lucky????

And then there was today, when Mark retrieved my shoes by the door and walked through the living room in them. I wanted to laugh out loud but needed to get across the room, into the kitchen to get the camera, get the lens cap off and the flash ready and then get back into the living room before he lost interest.

He ended up traipsing all over the living room before the giant shoes got all tangled around his feet, but he never fell down, and finally untangled his feet only by taking them out of the shoes.

Just thought you needed another dose of my cute boys. And my bragging, I guess...