Bennett Boy

I feel like I am way behind, but here are some pictures of Bennett and some stories to go with them.

Story Number One: I am blow drying my hair. Bennett is standing literally two feet away from me watching me use the "Ahhh!" (that is what we call my blow dryer.) I flip my hair over my head to get the underneath half, and when I flip my head back up, this is what I see.

Very expensive blue gel, all over Bennett's own hair, face, and hands. This kid is fast.

Story Number Two: I am folding laundry. Bennett is "helping" me fold laundry. (Bennett "helps" me do almost everything now days.) Halfway through, Bennett finds his choo-choo underwear, which is something I bought while in an experimental mood, and was washing after the experiment obviously failed. Bennett really, really wants to put on his choo-choo underwear, but I really, really don't want to take off his diaper at the moment. So the next thing I see is this...

Matt's socks (sent home from Iraq after the winter months were over), the infamous choo-choo underwear, and Bennett's "hat" which is actually an Easter bucket that spends an incredible amount of time on Bennett's head. Bennett wears this outfit until bedtime. We have one classy dresser.

Story Number Three (which actually started almost a month ago and ended a few weeks ago, but I am just now getting around to writing about it): Bennett is throwing a spectacular tantrum over (I can only guess) me shaking his chocolate milk when he wanted to do that himself. After a minute of this, I decide it is ridiculous that he is acting this way over chocolate milk, and I put him in his crib until he can calm down enough to act civilized. I put him in his crib. Bennett is screaming. I close the door. Bennett is screaming. I walk down the hall to call Matt on Skype so he can better appreciate what I deal with on a sometimes hourly basis. Bennett is screaming. I sit down with the computer and...silence. Good. I guess he finally calmed down enough to talk. I get up to retrieve our opinionated son when my heart stops as I hear the sound of Bennett's doorknob turning. Is there somebody in the house?! Call the police! I make my way to the hall just in time to see Bennett walk out of his room.

I stand there, in shock. How did this happen? I look at Bennett. He looks at me. I look at Bennett. He looks at me. It is a long moment. Bennett starts smiling. I start panicking.

So Bennett moves to his big-boy bed that very night, April 19th, 2011. Here is how that went.

Night one: I lay by Bennett in his bed for over an hour until he falls asleep.
Nights and nap times two and three: I lay by Bennett on the floor, and we "bajio (ba-GI-oo)" which means "hold hands" in whatever language Bennett is speaking, until he falls asleep.
Nights and nap times four and five: I lay in the hall where Bennett can still see me. I feel extreme guilt as my baby boy continuously cries "I tuttle wi Mommy!" (I cuddle with Mommy!) but I don't give in. He eventually falls asleep. We cuddle first thing in the morning.
Nights and nap times six and seven: I close Bennett's door almost all the way. I do my thing in the kitchen and living room, making lots of noise so he can hear me. Bennett tries to sneak out. I put an abrupt stop that quickly and swiftly. Bennett never tries to get out again. He eventually falls asleep.
Night eight: I put Bennett in his room, close the door, and don't hear from him again until 8:00 in the morning, at which point he yells, "Mommy! Mommy!" until I come into the room (this is not something I enforced, but I like it.) When I get to his room, Bennett hands me his puppy and he keeps his bear and we cuddle until Micky Mouse Clubhouse starts.
Night nine: I am one proud mommy.

It is so crazy seeing our little boy sleeping in a bed like a big person. He does so well, I have never had to fight him since the last day of our intensive training program (it really wasn't that hard). Bennett loves it, I love it, and he has only fallen out of it once. What a big boy!

Story Number Four: We are eating breakfast on Sunday (Mother's Day, which was just like any other day around here) when I hear a loud banging/scratching sound on our living room window. I go to see what it was, and find two squirrels desperately lunging at our window. I have to idea why, but I think it's pretty cool. I call Bennett over to witness the miracle of nature. I hold him close and talk quietly about the squirrels, as Bennett appears fascinated by them. Suddenly, Bennett gets more excited than I have seen him be in a long time, and he breaks free of my grasp. He runs to his toy basket and begins desperately searching through them. Upon finding what he was looking for he runs back to the window, waving his toy gun and yelling, "I shoot da squalls! I shoot da squalls!"

I am totally blaming his father's DNA for this one.

Story Number Five: It is raining cats and dogs (and buckets of water and hail) so we go outside to watch it and end up in it. And Bennett loves it. That's pretty much the whole story, but it's a good one.

Oh, what would I do without my mess-making, underwear-wearing, patience-trying, big-boy-sleeping, squirrel shooting, Bennett Boy?

I am one lucky girl.
I love you, Bennett.