Boys Will Be Boys

I love my little buddy because he says manly things like "I need to find a BIG stick".

I'm pretty sure he thinks Emma's name is "NO!" because that is what he always yells at her while she is getting in the way of his playtime.  He loves her so very much all the same.  In the mornings while big sister is at kindergarten and little sister is napping, he and I have a delightful amount of one-on-one time.  Adam always requests that we "play games!  Like Hungwee Hungwee Hippos or Hi-Ho Cheeri-o!" but as soon as he hears her peeps over the monitor, he perks right up and says, "I will go get Emma.  I will say hi to her."  Or, if she is crying, "I will help her to not be sad."

He also plops himself down in the garage and asks, "What are we fixing, Dad?  I will help woo."

I don't really love the fact that Adam always seems to be the one that gets hurt around here.  Is this because he's a boy?  Because he's three?  Because he's the middle child, and often the least-squeaky wheel?  Today he managed to get his foot caught under the swingset while it was jumping around as the girls pumped higher and higher on the swings.  As I carried into the house to assess the damage and determine whether or not we needed to take a trip to Urgent Care, all I could think was, "Again?  I'm going to have CPS after me if I don't step it up with this boy."  A pacifying ring pop and an extremely rare treat of watching Buzz Lightyear Star Command in the middle of the afternoon and he appears to be just fine.

I also don't really love the fact that he loves screen time.  LOVES it.  He can turn on my computer, get onto the Internet, navigate to Disney Jr. or Starfall, and play games without any help or direction.  He did this yesterday at 7 in the morning.  At 2 in the afternoon, when we were all outside playing in the beautiful sun, Adam turned up missing.  When I tried to get into the house to find him, I found that the garage door was locked.  (Yes, the same door that was locked two weeks ago and required a second-story break in.)  After knocking, pounding, and banging on the garage door, then the front door, I peek through the front window- which was open- to find Adam clicking away on the computer.  After a very stern reprimand I asked him why he locked the door.  "Because I didn't want woo to see me."

Ah, he is a smart one.