The Twang

He has a southern accent. And I have no idea where it came from. And he loves chocolate. So do I. He has no problem wearing diapers. He charms old ladies. He talks to strangers. He can make washable markers unwashable. His scream bursts eardrums. His laughter evokes smiles. His blue eyes are startling. He will probably love his “Rays” (blankets) until he’s 92. He more 2 than any 2 year old out there. He’s adorable.

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He loves the color red. He just learned how to spell his name. And he tells me how 69 times a day. He prefers tennis shoes to sandals. He is newly obsessed with swinging. High. He is a perfectionist. He knows how to wheel and deal. He’s bossy. He’s sweet. He loves bread like his mama. He’s incredibly proud to be 4. He hates to leave us. He adores Thomas the train (and Friends). He still sucks his first two fingers and snuggles with Giraffees. He is starting to dislike Target. But I’m not. He’s smart. He’s persistent. He’s 4 but he’s still my sweet baby.

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