The Middle One

I had a rare late start to my morning today.  I took the opportunity to drop my oldest off at school, which actually, is probably more mean than nice.  Though he loves school, I think he believes the change in routine means he will be missing a day with me, and gets clingy and sad when I try to leave him.  I then went back home to pick up Curtis.  I had decided the night before to take my pleasant, well-behaved, happy two-year old out to breakfast.  On a mom date.

You see, Curtis is so easy going. So laid back and go with the flow, he often gets neglected.  A true middle child. While Brock is throwing tantrums about what we are eating for dinner, crying, pacing about the house, taking up all Matt and I's attention, Curtis is blissfully and of course, in his unfailing "messy kid" fashion, sloppily eating away at his meal.  Just tonight, I asked Brock to pick up Matt's shoe and go kill the creepy cricket spider thing in the basement.  He picked up the shoe, then started freaking out about it, squealing that he is scared of bugs.  I then asked Curtis to do it.  He picked up the shoe. Smiled that devious, cute smile.  Then began stomping everything in sight...albeit missing the actual bug and managing to his Brock in the back, Matt in the shins, and attempting to bonk George's head which I deflected in the nick of time.

Somewhat recently, Curtis' language and vocabulary blossomed.  He regularly uses full sentences with real words, and occasionally mixes it with some random, adorable, creative jibberish. The other morning, as Matt was shaving in the bathroom, and I was trying to catch a few more minutes of shut eye, Curtis began repeating in a non-panicked manner, "Mommy, I stuck. Mommy, I STUCK. Mommy, mommy, MOMMY, mommy, I stuck.  I stuck. Mommy, I stuck." Finally, I look up to find him lying on his back on the floor with his pointer finger in the vent cover.  I walk over, and easily pull his finger out.  So easily, in fact, there is nearly no way it was possibly stuck. It required no maneuvering whatsoever to remove it. None. By this point, Matt had stepped out of the bathroom to see what was going on, and just laughed at his silly little boy, who was now up and resuming his daily activity of jumping on the pillows in our bedroom. Later that day, Curtis also got "stuck" with a pillow between his legs, and "stuck" on his regular dining table chair. He can also be caught saying, "what the heck" and "look at me" on a fairly regular basis.  And Matt and I generally make fun of his interpretation of "get up here" and "come on" which are "gup here" and "um on".

Matt and I also joke that Curtis will never lack friends.  He is our social butterfly.  He has begun to invite George to join him in play.  You can hear him calling, "Georgie! Georgie, come here" from almost any room in the house. George complies, you here giggles, babbling, happiness for a moment, and then, "no, no. Georgie."  And the baby crying.  Oh well.   George can fend for himself.  He may be only 11 months old, but just yesterday, he bit both of his brothers in self defense.  Someday, those 2 will be inseparable, and that day is not far away.

Lastly, no post dedicated to the wonderful traits of my sweet middle child is complete without the mention of his desirable, coveted-by-all-mother's sleeping habits.  I hosted a baby shower on Sunday at 1pm.  Matt was supposed to take the 3 boys away.  Curtis began showing the typical two-year old signs of nap time (frequent meltdowns, outbursts and an overall utter lack of reason or self-control) at 12:30p.  I decided, fine, just put him down for the nap, worst case he wakes up with everyone here, I think 22 women can handle one toddler.  Shower happened, food, drinks, presents.  Shower ended. The four o'clock hour was just around the corner, and who strolls down the steps?  A sleepy-headed Curtis. Totally clueless to the event that just happened, except that there are bowls of M&M's out, with in reach and available for the taking.

I would never claim him to be perfect.  He IS a two year old.  While out to breakfast, I was constantly aware that one wrong move could send him into that whirlwind of toddler-like emotion, anger, sadness, and screaming.  He is LOUD.  But, thankfully, chocolate milk buys a lot of time. 
No doubt, his cheerful demeanor, and cute little voice improved many a First Watch patron's breakfast.  He did not run around, jump on booths, or do anything overly annoying.  He just seemed curious, excited, and pleased to be joining his mother, alone, for breakfast.  I truly believe he could sense this morning was something special.  And despite, blending in, losing the spotlight, and being the easy-going middle child, he too is special.