I don't know if it's the cooler and rainy weather that's blown in the last couple of days, 

but my intentions of blogging about our weekend yesterday were trumped by a two-hour nap after playgroup.  

twas glorious.

So.  Catching up...

We made a day trip to Manhattan on Saturday for Spring Game.  We also went last year, sans any kiddos, and I like the idea of continuing to make it when we can.  I had talked about going to K-State with Henry for the few days leading up to it.  I'm positive he didn't understand, but that sure didn't dissipate any of his excitement once we arrived.  (Late.  Because that's how we arrive at everything these days, and it's such a pet peeve of mine.  

But, that's how things happen right now so I've got to learn to accept it.)

Henry sat on Poppa's lap almost the entire game.  Or on the lap of the lady sitting in front of them.  

 

It takes a village 

 - or - 

another reason why we love K-State so much...

it's all about family.

I mean, I'm not so sure the two college-aged boys sitting next to Nelle while she was crying during the game really thought that, but oh well.  She was just upset...she didn't know whether to cheer for purple or white.  She was prepared...wearing both, but still.  It's a lot of pressure for a wee one. 

Maybe my favorite family of four picture to date.

(Technically family of five - oh, heeeeyyyy Bill!)

And look, Henry still has pants on!

Until about an hour later when in a matter of minutes, 

he scraped both his knees and needed new pants while playing trucks (what else?!) at my parents'.  

Two bum knees and no pants, but that didn't slow him down.  Later he jumped off my parents' couch, 

thought it was so fun scaring the dickens out of his mother and did it 20 more times. 

This boy is WILD, but oh Ham, I just love you.

What it looks like when Andrew gets home from work early...

 ...and we celebrate Earth Day (a day late).

What it looks like when Henry helps.  

What it looks like when I lay our hand-me-down-from-my-grandmother-quilt down for some quality tummy time for Nelle.  

And when Henry does it.

And Franklin too.

What you think it looks like every time we take a picture.

What it really looks like.

 And feels like.  Me hanging on to them with all I've got, and both of them going, growing, too quickly, too much, too fast.

 Happy Friday.  Happy Weekending.

Easter recap:

Second annual family selfie before church:

What a difference a year makes, yes?

 

I asked Andrew to watch Henry play outside while Nelle napped and I made our lemon bundt cake for Easter dinner (really the only thing from our Easter dinner worth mentioning...I guess our cooking skills knew it was just us four this year and didn't really show up?).

 

He did for a while, but in typical Andrew fashion, he found his way into the kitchen and started to take over help me so I jumped at the chance to snap a few more pictures of my Easter Ham in his (second) Easter best.  Oh, yes, he went through three pairs of pants on this day.  First pair of khakis he sat in a puddle and got street grime all over his backside.  Second pair he peed through.  Third pair made it into the dirty clothes at the end of the day in tact.  Oh, Ham.

Andrew dodging pictures as he had changed out of his church clothes faster than...well, faster than I knew what was happening.  

It was really a gorgeous day in so many ways.  

Yep, have one of these too.

Feeling blessed.

If you've ever wondered what people mean when they say a little boy is "all boy" they are really saying this:

That 'said' little boy cannot and will not sit still.  If he accidentally does sit still, as soon as he realizes he has accidentally been still, he must make up for the stillness with extra oomph and zest in the next moment.  He cannot just throw a ball.  He must throw it with gusto, a step and all of his weight behind it.  He also cannot just throw balls.  He must throw toys, and books, and sticks, and rocks, and food, and clothes, and grass, and mulch,
and sand, and anything that he can pick up. 

When he gets excited, it shows on his face, in his arm pumps, foot stomps, and teeth grits. 

It's not enough to conquer climbing up or down the stairs by himself.  He also has to jump off the last step.  Or the curb.  Or the bed.  Or a chair. 

And that jump must be mastered so it is practiced every time we open the door to the garage to get in the car.  Or the front door to get the mail. 
Or the back door to go outside.  

And might as well practice whenever he wants because door knobs and door handles are no longer detterants, but just a slight delay tactic.

And when he gets into the garage, he may as well open the dog food container and try a few pieces.  Again. 
Because maybe it tastes better today?  Compared to yesterday.  Or this morning.  Or five minutes ago.

And surely the dog doesn't mind.  Nor does he mind when the "all boy" boy tackles him.  Or lays on him.  Or tries to ride him like a horse.  Or a bull.

Probably a bull.  

Because bulls are like cows.  And he likes cows.  And tractors.  And trucks.  And any construction vehicle that slightly resembles a tractor or a truck.  And he must call out their names as we are driving down the road, and he spots one.  And then requests more.  

Can't find a tractor for the "all boy" boy?  Doesn't matter.
 If you're lucky, it's trash day, and that is his favorite day of the week when that beep-beep-beep trash truck backs up to the can in your driveway,
hoists it up, dumps it, and places it back in one final sweep.  Byeeeeeee, trash truck.  Until next week.

The "all boy" boy likes to tell you when you're driving "up high" as you cross a bridge or shouts "down!" when you exit the highway.  And it's best when done with shoes pulled off in the car, but even better with a sock on the hand because surely that's where those are meant to belong.

Ooooh, the "all boy" boy loves to be outside.  And since doors are no longer keeping him in, he'll go outside whenever he pleases.  With no shoes on. 
Or socks.  Or even pants.  And he'll squeal when he gets caught because for that little boy, that's just half the fun. 

The "all boy" boy turns washing hands in the sink into a fun game of splashing water on himself.  And you.  And the countertop.  And the cabinets.  And probably the floor.  And he might let you dry his hands for an all-time record of 3.3 seconds until he dashes off, fast as his little legs can take him,
arms pumping to pick up speed.

To go where?

Crawling onto the couch to flop on his sister.  Diving into his tepee to hide.  Or maybe just over to his cars where he will watch them race down the ramp, one-by-one, until that becomes too predictable, and he wonders, what happens if I throw them one-by-one against the brick fireplace?  Do they all bounce off that far?  Do they all roll once they hit the ground?  Oh, that one didn't fall completely off the ledge...better push it down with the others. 

The "all boy" boy loves to fling his entire body against a mountain of pillows on your bed.  And says "hannnn?" when he wants you to hold his hand and leads you to where he wants to play and jerks you down to the floor with him to "paaaaay" (play).  And usually that means playing trucks and making truck noises and making trucks crash and
making trucks fall apart and putting trucks back together. 

The "all boy" boy doesn't cuddle much, but sure wants a hug if someone else is getting one and will come running across the room yelling "huuuuuuuh? for a hug.  If you're really lucky, the "all boy" boy will even lay his head on your shoulder for a full two seconds during his hug.  And you'll breath in his "all boy" boy scent, and feel his soft hair and listen to his easy breath and wish that moment would last just a second more.   

If you've ever wondered what people mean when they say a little boy is "all boy" it's likely you don't have a little boy.  And if you do, and your little boy is "all boy" you probably just nodded along, and then smiled because your little "all boy" boy is the best workout, best tag-a-long, best adventurer,
best little boy you've ever loved with your whole heart. 

And goodness your "all boy" boy is surely exhausting and demanding and rough and tough and physical.  But he's exactly as he's meant to be. 

And he's yours.