ARTHUR IS ➐ MONTHS!

β«Έ 𝕋𝕠𝕑 π•‹π•–π•Ÿ π•‹π•šπ••π•“π•šπ•₯𝕀 β«·

βž™ 16 pounds 11 ounces

βž™ 27.5 inches long

βž™ two cute bottom front teeth

βž™ somehow acquired nickname: β€˜Moo Moo’

βž™ β€œMr. Loves To Shout”-not just for the Bills

βž™ boycotts sleep whenever possible

βž™ not a fan of peas and green beans

βž™ loves music; especially Big Sis on piano

βž™ refuses every bottle & sippycup on the market

βž™ obsessed with peek-a-boo & tickles

β«Έ π•„π•’π•žπ•’β€™π•€ 𝕄𝕠𝕀π•₯ 𝕄𝕒𝕣𝕧𝕖𝕝𝕠𝕦𝕀 π•„π• π•žπ•–π•Ÿπ•₯ β«·

“π˜Šπ˜™π˜ˆπ˜šπ˜ “…toys make their way over the highchair ledge, bouncing off the floor in all directions. β€œπ˜ˆπ˜-𝘎𝘈𝘏𝘏 !”… you shout with great anticipation for dinner. “π˜β€™π˜” π˜π˜œπ˜•π˜Žπ˜™π˜  “…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. “π˜šπ˜“π˜ˆπ˜” “…the front door, as he leaves in a rush. “π˜žπ˜–π˜–π˜ !” …Wanda has to go pee outside. “π˜‰π˜Œπ˜Œπ˜—-π˜‰π˜Œπ˜Œπ˜Œπ˜Œπ˜— “…your green bean puree is ready! β€œπ˜žπ˜–π˜–π˜ ” …Wanda is cold and wants to come back inside. “π˜Žπ˜™π˜ˆπ˜ˆ!”…you yell; your impatience is growing…

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. “π˜–π˜—π˜Œπ˜• π˜œπ˜— !”… I’m anxious to hurry-up because there’s still so much to do before bedtime. “π˜Œπ˜Œπ˜Œπ˜Œπ˜’!” …you shriek with closed lips, communicating your disgust with the night’s menu. “𝘐 π˜‹π˜–π˜•’π˜›π˜“π˜π˜’π˜Œ π˜›π˜π˜π˜š”…your sister declares, as she supports your ‘dinner disapproval’ just in a slightly more mature fashion. “π˜Šπ˜“π˜ˆπ˜•π˜Ž-π˜‰π˜–π˜–π˜”-π˜šπ˜”π˜ˆπ˜šπ˜”…the pile of dirty dishes in the sink comes toppling down.

“𝘞𝘈𝘈𝘈𝘏 !”… Arthur. meltdown. initiated.

I walk away. I feel stranded. I hold my head. I want to cry… but, β€œπ™ƒπ™€π™”,π™”π™Šπ™ π™’π˜Όπ™‰π™‰π˜Ό π˜Ώπ˜Όπ™‰π˜Ύπ™€?!” Yes, before my own tears begin to well-up, I make this absurd proposition. You and your sister stare at me and go silent… “π˜π˜Œπ˜ π˜Žπ˜–π˜–π˜Žπ˜“π˜Œ, π˜›π˜œπ˜™π˜• π˜–π˜• π˜šπ˜–π˜”π˜Œ 90’𝘚 π˜”π˜œπ˜šπ˜π˜Š !”…at least Google Hub listens to me, even when both of you refuse… 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: “𝙃𝙀𝙔, π™”π™Šπ™ π™’π˜Όπ™‰π™‰π˜Ό π˜Ώπ˜Όπ™‰π˜Ύπ™€ ?!” …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 arms…

I love you.

-❀️Alexandria

… join me by #FallingRightSideUp πŸ‘†πŸΌ

when life gets turned upside downπŸ‘‡πŸΌ

One thought on “ARTHUR IS ➐ MONTHS!

  1. So sweet to dance with your children. β€œHe’s turned my mourning into dancing,” the Psalmist said. Keep up the great work of being an incredible wife and mother.

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: