β«Έ ππ π‘ πππ ππππππ₯π€ β«·
β 16 pounds 11 ounces
β 27.5 inches long
β two cute bottom front teeth
β somehow acquired nickname: βMoo Mooβ
β βMr. Loves To Shoutβ-not just for the Bills
β boycotts sleep whenever possible
β not a fan of peas and green beans
β loves music; especially Big Sis on piano
β refuses every bottle & sippycup on the market
β obsessed with peek-a-boo & tickles
β«Έ ππππβπ€ ππ π€π₯ πππ£π§πππ π¦π€ ππ ππππ₯ β«·
“πππππ “β¦toys make their way over the highchair ledge, bouncing off the floor in all directions. βππ-ππππ !”β¦ you shout with great anticipation for dinner. “πβπ ππππππ “β¦your sister insists, as she hurries through homework in order to bring out the forks and plates.
Dinner is served by Dad, just as he flies out the door; his own food wrapped in a to-go container or else he’ll be late for night shift. “ππππ “β¦the front door, as he leaves in a rush. “ππππ !” β¦Wanda has to go pee outside. “ππππ-ππππππ “β¦your green bean puree is ready! βππππ ” β¦Wanda is cold and wants to come back inside. “ππππ!”β¦you yell; your impatience is growingβ¦
My food is left on the counter, ready to reheat later, and your sister begins to indulge as I come running to the rescue, ready to fill your belly. “ππππ ππ !”β¦ Iβm anxious to hurry-up because there’s still so much to do before bedtime. “πππππ!” β¦you shriek with closed lips, communicating your disgust with the night’s menu. “π πππ’πππππ ππππ”β¦your sister declares, as she supports your ‘dinner disapproval’ just in a slightly more mature fashion. “πππππ-ππππ-πππππ”β¦the pile of dirty dishes in the sink comes toppling down.
“πππππ !”β¦ Arthur. meltdown. initiated.
I walk away. I feel stranded. I hold my head. I want to cryβ¦ but, βπππ,πππ ππΌπππΌ πΏπΌππΎπ?!” Yes, before my own tears begin to well-up, I make this absurd proposition. You and your sister stare at me and go silentβ¦ “πππ ππππππ, ππππ ππ ππππ 90’π πππππ !”β¦at least Google Hub listens to me, even when both of you refuseβ¦ I scoop you up, and we start casually bouncing to the beat. Your little legs kick my sides with excitement as I begin to march in circles around the island countertop. Big Sis leaves her seat to join our dance routine with her funny twists and turns, making you giggle-away the puddles of tears around your eyes. And just like that, an irritable moment quickly turned marvelous.
These surprise ‘dance parties’ have been on repeat the past few weeks. Something as trivial as turning on the radio has had the ability to transform our loud, chaotic, and uncoordinated kitchen into what feels as peacefully synchronized as a ballet dance floor.
So, I promise to slow down, Arthur; I will continue to ask in hectic moments: “πππ, πππ ππΌπππΌ πΏπΌππΎπ ?!” β¦because before long, it won’t always be your pudgy little hands pinching the back of my arms, but my old wrinkly hands clutching onto your armsβ¦
I love you.
-β€οΈAlexandria
β¦ join me by #FallingRightSideUp ππΌ
when life gets turned upside downππΌ
FALLING RIGHT SIDE UP 
So sweet to dance with your children. βHeβs turned my mourning into dancing,β the Psalmist said. Keep up the great work of being an incredible wife and mother.
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