Anyway, a quick post. In the last week, Hunter has learned to say "Mama," learned to give high fives, clap and ... drum roll please ... pull himself up and cruise around the room. He'll be walking in no time. Oh, and he's gained 14 lbs. OK, that last one is an exaggeration, but it feels like it. In fact, I have decided I've GOT to get a 4-door car because Linebacker McEats-Constantly and Wiggles McCant-Sitstill are just too hard to get in and out of my little two-door.
Speaking of Wiggles, err ... Wilder, he is quintessentially 3. I walk around all day going "Wilder, can you pick that up?" Repeat aforementioned phrase somewhere between three and 12 times, and you see what I'm getting at. Are all 3-year-old boys like this? He is literally in his own head about 90 percent of the time, but let me slip an eff-bomb just once I tell you. I kid, I kid. I don't swear in front of my kids (hardly ever).
Well, it's after 9 p.m. My pillow is begging me to come drool on it for a bit. Hugs, k.
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Hunter in his crib right after he pulled himself for the first time. So pleased. So proud of himself.
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Wilder comes in to congratulate his brother. Have I mentioned how much this kid LOVES his little bro? Man, he cannot get enough of him. It's pretty great, but honestly sometimes Hunter looks at me with an expression that says: "Seriously, what's a baby gotta do to get a little space around here?"

And Betty, just because she's neglected too often. But look how cute she is! And that stuffing on the floor behind her? A toy! She ripped to shreds! Because I don't have enough messes to clean up!!! (NOTE: sarcastic use of exclamation points ... but honestly, I adore this dog. She's the best.)
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