Age Appropriate

So, as I was blowing raspberries into Olivia's armpit, it got me thinking about how some things in life are meant to be outgrown.  It's one thing when she's two and freshly bathed.  It certainly wouldn't be the same experience with a sweaty teenage boy. 

 

 

 

I frequently get requests of "do it to me, Mom!" and I have to be creative in my approach of swinging a fifty something pound boy up over my head without breaking my back.  It sort of reminds me of middle school bowling club and being WAY too weak to lift the twenty-five (or five) pound bowling ball, but also being WAY too embarrassed to admit that I couldn't lift the twenty-five (or five) pound bowling ball.  Like it was really any secret. 

 

I love watching the boys hunched over, pushing their big Tonka trucks around the yard.  I love Olivia's big, expressive eyes as she spots monsters everywhere we go, and I even loved it when Isaac told me in a VERY excited way that toilet water tastes just like bath water.  That is, once I found out it stemmed from a conversation with Jeff on the origins of water. 

 

But there is definitely a right of passage from baby-hood into childhood.  It usually involves a giant perma-bruise across the forehead, and culminates into

 



 

Isaac, age 2

 

Elias, age 5

 

Olivia, Friday. 

 

Note the three stitches up top.  Ever seen the runaway wheelchair episode on Seinfeld?  It was a little like that.  But no worries- she never cried and fell asleep under the heat lamp on the table while they were giving her the numbing shots.

 

But soon enough they're trading in the baby fat rolls,

 

 

graduating from Preschool,

 

 

(Isaac was so energetic with the actions- he's the blurry man)



 

And Kindergarten.

 

 

 

And moving on to the next stage of life, raspberry free and big enough to be pinning ME down instead of the other way around.

 

But until they do outgrow this stage of life, and speaking of Seinfeld episodes, who says that a garbage disposal in the shower is such a bad idea?