henry.

I try really hard not to label my kids, at least not while they're listening. I don't want them to think that's how they should always be. For example: if I said, "George is my shy child."

I would feel like a fail-mom if he never made any friends because of his tendency towards being shy.

But, since my kiddos hardly read this blog, I feel I can spurt about anything on here without them knowing. Mom-Of-The-Year goes to me, I know. I pretty much dropped that award in my pocket years ago.

So let me just say, my kiddos are gloriously different from one another.

Sometimes I love it. Other times, not so much.

The other day I overheard Henry say to George:

 "Hey Georgie, what happens when you're feeling really grateful for something, but you really have to toot?"

Did your eye brows just screw together in a "Did I seriously just hear that?"

Mine certainly did.

Henry's answer: "You have a gratitoot!"

I'm not going to lie, a laugh burst from my lips and I thought to myself, that kid is definitely mine.

I'm so grateful to have Henry. He's clever, witty, charming and always fun.

Happy eight years old, kiddo!



Henry and the male body parts

True Story:

Last night George sat at the kitchen bar as he read his reptile book. Flipping through the book he made at school, he read, "Lizards have different types of testicles."

I said, "What? Read that again."

"Lizards have different types of testicles," George harrumphed as he rolled his eyes. Obviously I wasn't listening to him.

"No George," I insisted. "I don't think that is what it really says." I walked around the bar to get a better look at his book. Peering over his shoulder I glanced at the pages of his hand written book. Sure enough, I couldn't decipher what he'd actually written. Phonetically speaking, he could have been right.

Shrugging my shoulders I suggested, "Well, I don't think you meant to write the word testicles . . ." And then I proceeded to explain that the testicles are a part of the male body.

Before I got half way through my explanation, Henry gave me an over-exaggerated eye roll and said, "Mom, I really don't think that's something you should be talking about. Come on. I think we know what the boy balls are."

Speechless. I seriously stared at him in shock, my mouth gaping open.

That pretty much sums up my Sass-a-frass Henry. I love him to death, but sometimes I just gawk at him in disbelief. Today my super say-it-like-it-is kiddo graduated from kindergarten. I am so proud of him and love him even more for his spunky outlandishness.