Asher is officially two and a half. That half matters, folks.
Here are a few thoughts for my fading mom-memory.
He is tall. So tall that people ask me twice how old he is. On our little growth chart, he's well exceeding his brothers' heights at three years old.
He thinks he's seven, not two. If the brothers can do it, so can he. Developmentally, this is actually working to his advantage. The kid has some seriously good coordination. He can kick a soccer ball better than I can, and he'll soon be outrunning me too.
Which means I should bear down on his obedience issues. When Asher wants to obey, he's very chivalrous about it. He says thank you and please like a champ. He minds the street rules and scoots along without many sidewalk mishaps at all these days. But when I request an apology from him after a biting incident or a unwieldy sword, he sets his mouth in a line and no amount of cajoling can undo it until he's good and ready. When he decides it's funny to run toward a street corner, he does it, at full speed, with a smirk on his face. Let's just say, he's got "spirit."
He likes to cuddle. I still lay down in his bed with him every day at nap time until he falls asleep. Because sometimes you just need to snuggle.
He has a pinching fetish. I think it's a sensory thing. It's weird. It's almost compulsive. And it usually involves me and my elbow joint. Which grosses me out. I'm hoping he outgrows this soon.
Littleland is his favorite book. We could read it five times a day and he wouldn't tire of it.
He likes card games. The boys and I have been playing Uno and Dobble this summer, and Asher really joins right in. We have to help him, of course, but he's surprisingly patient at actually being a part of the game. Legos on the other hand, he still just destroys. Much to Jude's dismay.
In spite of his lego mischief, his brothers adore him. And he loves them. It is sweet, ya'll. There is just a lot of brotherly love in this house.
He's not potty trained. It was a major mom failure. When NanNan came, I just put him in diapers to make it easier. And now he's potty-resistant. He wasn't actually doing that great before her arrival anyways. He would stand in the park, peeing in his pants, smirking over his shoulder at me...five minutes after I tried to make him go. So we're taking a break. And we'll try again a little later. Did I mention he has "spirit?"
He's cheered for Barca all through the summer, even though the season is just picking up again now. He shouts "GooooooAAAlllll" and cheers for himself while playing soccer at the park. He seems convinced he's in the league. He's taken to stealing Jude and Silas's jerseys to wear.
He can hike with the best of them. The kid is like a little bundle of energy. Until he's not. At which point, you'd better get him home q-u-i-c-k!!!
I still stand over him often at night and feel my heart jump into my throat. We love this little guy so much. He is a gift from God. Worth every bit of the mischief he's brought to our world!
We love you, Ashy!