CP. ZaCuck. Cuckie. Curty Pat. Or Curtis.

My second born turned 2 and 1/2 today. It just dawned on me, his half birthday is Cinco De Mayo.  How appropriate!  I don't think this one will ever turn down a party, in his life.  Every so often, I look at him and think, he truly might be that neglected middle child. After all, he was a measly 6 months old when I got pregnant with George.  He barely toddled into the hospital room to meet baby Georgie.  I remember seeing him walk through that big door, not holding anyone's hand, and I smiled.  It was the first sign of walking independence from him.  The day George was born.  He was forced to grow up so much that day.  George is currently about the age Curtis was when he became a big brother!  Insane. My teeny weeny, baby Geo-Geo?  He could not possibly be a big brother yet...but Curtis was.  And, true to his nature, he took to the new role happily.  Without batting an eye.  This go with the flow, Honey Badger attitude of his only contributes to my worry that he will be the overlooked middle child.  If there's candy involved...done.  He's game.  He's always been so easy.  I mistake it for not needing attention, or help, or interaction.  Luckily, he does plenty to set him self apart, here to list a few...

Phrases that can often be heard by him:
- oh my gosh (sometimes, but rarely the "gosh" replaced with "god")
- what the heck!? (long emphasis on "heck")
- mine
- what's that (which I haven't tested the true limits of the "whats that" game, but I can promise you it lasts longer than 20 minutes...)
- no, no Georgie! (frequently followed by crying or screaming)
- yeth (yes, with a lisp)
- I'm so hungry (sometimes true, sometimes immediately following a meal)
- Uh huh (large emphasis on the "huh" with the "uh" questionably present)


He is currently really into sports, specifically basketball.

He loves school. Pretty much shoves me out the door. Knows where to hang his backpack and drop his lunch.

Do not, whatever you do, under any circumstances, leave him and George alone, together, unattended. Ever. Unless you want your house burnt down, or feel like taking a trip to the emergency room.

He loves Taties. And any other animal for that matter.

He willingly and freely gives kisses. He says "polease", and thank you, and bless you.

He hits.

And bites.

He is in the contemplative phase of toilet training.

He is in the not-so-contemplative phase of pacifier retiring.

He warms the heart of all who know him. And is likely, the favorite child of most if forced to pick one...or even when not forced.

The terrible twos seem to be phasing out already.