I have a friend. I have a friend with a baby. I have a friend with a baby that Emory adores. Never mind that God has provided the kid with her very own baby brother, she prefers Isaiah. I guess it's only fair. There are times I prefer someone else's kids too.Emory has decided that Isaiah is the baby to which all babies must be measured. As we were headed to the pool yesterday I heard Ethan creating an all too familiar sound. The sound of the velcro on the headrest on the reversible car seat being peeled off. Here is the ensuing conversation:
Mommy: "Emory, do you hear that noise? Do you see what Ethan is doing? You used to do the same thing when you were a baby."
Emory: *clucks her tounge* "I bet Isaiah doesn't pull on his carseat head rest."
Truth be told, Isaiah is a little imp. Eric calls him a lephrechan. He has that gleam in his eye. The one that surveys a room and within seconds is planning a bit of mischief. He cracks me up. It might actually be that Isaiah teaches Ethan a few things about mischief. Ethan strikes me as a happy to play by the rules kind of guy, while Isaiah seems bent on finding out if those boundaries really are there. I know a certain little girl like that. She's a delight and maddening all at once. Let it be known, that lephrecans can be trained to play nice, but you must never let your guard down. And you must hold the upper hand by always maintaining eye contact and NEVER let them see you falter or they WILL exploit your weakness.
Now, Ethan is up to his own mischief. Mostly, when left on his own because mommy is running around like crazy to get ready for VBS, which we are hosting at our house this week. Need proof?