The Bros. Scott: an update

Well, Bright Eyes McPoopshispants has finally fallen asleep after much protest, so I figured I'd update the blog a little with some details on the boys. Not much to write, really, but it's been so long since I posted anything of substance that I figured it was time. 

We'll start with Wilder. After many weeks of being just the absolute sweetest, best behaved boy on the planet, his, err, wilder side has re-emerged. Don't get me wrong, even Wilder being a bit of a turd is still not that bad, but he's definitely learning to push the envelope. It's kind of funny really. I'll be all like: "Hey Wilder, let's not treat the dog like he's living at Guatanamo Bay, OK?" And he'll be all like: "Umm, OK Mama, I'm thinking about what you're requesting of me and soundly rejecting it as utter nonsense. I think I'm going to go ahead and suplex the dog." 

What's really most amusing to me (or frustrating, depending on the day) is how he knows he's being bad and testing out what his inner-James Dean can get away with. I'll ask him to quit doing something and he'll kind of trepidaciously shake his little blond head and then dart his adorable blue eyes over at me and look away quickly. He's gauging how quickly he might have to do a 180 or, you know, run for his life if I react poorly to his pathetic attempts at rebellion. A lot of times when he's in trouble I'll ask him to look at me while I explain to him how he's SO not getting away with this and he has SUCH a hard time looking me in the eye when I'm mad or disappointed. I take this as a good sign. I remember experiencing the same with my own mom, and I remember that I couldn't meet her eye because I was in awe of her power and scared to death of her judgment. 

Anyway, I'm sure all this with Wilder is just another phase. Hopefully, however, it's not a phase that's going to last until he's 4. 

In other areas of Wilder's world, there is no semblance of potty training going on. He has ZERO interest. Jerry thinks he's starting to be interested. I think that's the eternal optimism of a man who's tired of wiping poopy boy butts and dealing with what we call "fromunda" around here. (By the way, I suggest NOT doing a Google search of that word ... very colorful and, uhh, GROSS.) I recently bought some Buzz Lightyear and Diego underpants, explaining to Wilder that he could wear them when he was ready to try the potty. Nada. If any of you veteran parents and grandparents have advice on this front, holler. I'm pretty much decided to address potty-training as I've addressed everything else with Wilder — let it happen when it happens and trust that it will happen w/o much fuss sooner or later. It might be laziness, but it's a parenting style that seems to work best for me.

As much as I'd like to provide an update on Hunter, he is currently contemplating intensely protesting the fact that he's woken up and IS NOT IN MY ARMS!!!!! Oh yes, there fly the first yells. 

I'll be back on later to write more and hopefully post some pics.