This boy

This boy loves his daddy and likes to "help".

Well, at least until helping becomes boring and a dirt hill beckons.

Pretty sure there isn't enough stain stick on the planet to clean those clothes. 

This boy is the reason I said, "please don't throw rockets at Mommy's head while she's driving" today. The foam rocket was a 5 cent garage sale treasure. And I find myself speaking in third person a little too often.

This boy woke up on Friday discussing Avry's fourth birthday. He determined, "Avry got to have cake because he was all done with his three". He followed that up with letting me know Avry was big so he wouldn't fit in our washing machine without breaking it. Ever wonder what's going on in that head of his? Little insights frighten me a bit.

This boy was riding around polar bears on his bike last night. He later reported that he didn't run over any; his weaving pattern on the driveway mastered.

This boy is exhausting joy.