I love being a mom.  Despite how much pessimistic writing goes on about my job as mommy, I’m always writing with a cheerful pessimism, not a serious pessimism.  Sometimes I feel the need to point that out.  Things are good around here.  Real good.

And I think, despite our differences (me wanting clear walls and he preferring walls that are more like a toddler run art gallery), Jesse at 2 is probably at my favorite age.  His face is pudgy. And so are his hands.  I just can’t resist such pudgy cuteness.

Though I really like newborn through 16 too.  I guess age is a hard one to call favorites on.  But I do really like age 2.

You would think that Jesse was never watched as much trouble as he gets into.  Let me assure you, we have a family of 10. The boy is never alone.

What he is is very, very sly.  You could talk to him for 10 minutes and not even realize he’d been drawing your portrait on the side of the couch the entire time.

I know I’ve mentioned before Jesse’s love for drawing.

Recently, actually a couple times recently, I found more drawings in places that we aren’t supposed to put drawings. And they’re not even good ones.  They’re just big loopy scribbles.  I think I would be less bothered by it if he was showing some savant-like talent.  But no.  He’s just scribbling all over everything every chance he gets because his brothers can’t remember to keep their writing utensils out of reach.

The boys are my fall back for blame.  You know, if Kait’s not around.

My 7 year old is sitting on the floor doing some school work.  He sets his pencil down beside him to count something out on his fingers.
Jesse takes this opportunity to sneak around and steal the pencil. This is what we call sly.
Matthew goes to pick his pencil back up but it’s gone.  He looks under his book.  Looks all around himself.  Stands up.  It’s not there.  So, does he continue to search it out?  No.  He just goes and gets another one, assuming the first one disintegrated or something else just as likely to not have happened.

Meanwhile Jesse, gripping tightly to his new found marking piece, is doing his own artwork on the wall by the window that I’d just cleaned with magic eraser a few hours before.

I’m beginning to love Mr. Clean even more.  If you’re one of those stock buying people, whatever they’re called, go ahead and bet on Proctor & Gamble.  I’m sure to be buying enough Mr. Clean Magic Erasers to keep the company in business for another year or two at least.

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