"You may not hit. If you hit again you will have a time-out." I informed Little Man in my most serious mommy voice. I was crouched down eye to eye with him. Lately his patting is getting increasingly aggressive and he knows darn well it's just hitting. I see it in the glint in his eyes.
He reached his little arms up and put a chubby hand on each of my cheeks, squeezing my face until my lips were a fishy kiss. "I sorry Mama. I kiss you" and he planted a wet half snotty kiss on me. "Mama?"
"Yes, Little Man."
"I pooped one more time. I sorry. I pooped one more time." He informed me seriously, his head tilted and eyebrows up appropriately.
"You don't have to be sorry. Maybe next time you could sit on the potty to poop. Let's go change your pants."
"In a minute." he parroted my phrase back at me. "I pat my head and my tummy." he hop-skipped around the house patting his head and his tummy. Obviously The Girls have been playing school with him again. "see!? Not hurt. Not hurt." He was patting himself nearly as fiercely as he had been me moments before.
"Be gentle with my baby." I admonished him.
"I not baaaaaby. I'm a Little Man." when he says his name like that it sounds like he's saying; "I'm a doctor" and cracks me up all day long. He uses it to excuse anything.
He might be climbing on top of his radio flyer inch worm to reach Daddy's coffee and upon being busted explain… "I'm a doctor! It's licious! I'm a doctor!"
Or he'll pull a chair over to "help me" cook. When I tell him he can't help cook at the stove until he's ten he laughs and reminds me, "I not TEN! I two six four, I'm a DOCTOR!"
After I finished changing his diaper he started the tough patting on my arse again. "Hey listen up. Doctors do not hit."
"It's okay. You okay. I not a DOCTOR! I'm a DOCTOR!"
Oh baby Thatch, I do love you.
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