Time again to brag about Curtis. He is a year and a half now. Though, he did shatter a votive today. But I blame it more on his lack of coordination than him purposely making trouble. Curty, Curty, Curty, you put your borthers to shame because I could gush about your ridiculously wonderful demeanor and habits all day long. This child has still, yet to make me reach my boiling point. Ever. Pretty sure Brock does it daily, and has since birth. And George has had his moment or two.
Every single time. I walk through that front door, Curtis immediately ditches whatever book he is reading, toy he is eating or push toy he is roaming about the house with, to come bumbling toward me with an ear to ear grin chanting, "Maaamaaa, maaamaaa" in his raspy little voice. Makes my day. Every single time. Yes, he is starting to approach those "terrible two's" and the stubborn, testing little toddlerisms eek out every so often, but right now, it is just stinking cute. I mean, how can you not laugh when he sees you open a pop tart, therefore, instantly takes out his paci and throws it to the ground, then throws himself to the ground when he sees that you plan to eat it yourself and not give it to him. I mean, he has already had two...how much can one 18 month old eat!? I love his little temper tantrums.
I don't love that he insists on doing the stairs himself now. This child is anything but coordinated. He falls. Bumps his head. Trips. Drops things. Stumbles. And knocks into things, constantly. He is niether tall enough, especially with those stubby little legs, nor skilled enough to be traversing the stairs in an adult like manner. Yes, he has fallen all the way from the top to the bottom, at least once. I guess that is darwin for ya...make the fumbling kid the fat stubby one. Plenty of protection from the falls.
Besides food. And me. Curtis' favorite thing, in the entire world, is bedtime. I think he looks forward to bedtime from the moment he wakes up (wonder where he gets this from...Matt). He still takes 2-4 hour naps in the afternoon. And still begins wandering the house, in a zombie-like fashion, starting around 7:30pm until we are finally ready to help him to bed. When he gets to that point, you merely ask, "Curtis, you ready to go night-night?" And his little eyes perk up, he says "eh?" and runs off to find Blanky Bear and his paci. From that point on, you can not get him in bed fast enough. And when you finally finishing changing his diaper and putting on his PJ's and lying him in bed, he honest to God, lets out a huge sigh of relief. Lies down, and goes to bed. Not to be heard from for the next 10-13 hours. We did rock the boat a bit recently, by moving him upstairs to share a room with Brock. I have never felt so bad. For the few nights it took for Curtis to adjust, we had stollen away from him, his favorite part of life. On the upside, he loves brushign his teeth and reading a book with his big brother before bedtime. The two of them fight over the stool.
He is getting old enough to fight! Brock and Curtis actually interact and play with one another more and more everyday. Brock even gets mad when Curtis leaves an activity too soon. He likes to take all the pillow cushions off the couch to create his own "house" and Curtis is usually expected to be a tenant. Brock will yell at him to get back in the house and eventually come crying to me because Curtis won't comply. Haha. They wrestle. They hug. They kiss. They play with their kitchen set. They love one another. They are adorable.
Our house is just gushing with love. Curtis kisses everyone goodnight, and always makes sure to make a kissy sound when giving George a wet smootch. He is such the perfect, wonderful, middle child. Should I start worrying about the teenage years now? Cause something has got to give. Right?