Serge calls Henry "Hank" a lot. The other day, while dropping off Violet at pre-school I overhead Henry introducing himself as Hank to some of the kids.
"Hi dere! I'm Hank!"
My heart nearly exploded out of my chest. He looks like a Hank in the above photo of him wearing a little Western shirt Serge insisted on getting him for Christmas and is only just now starting to fit. The Hankiest Hank you ever did see...
Each morning he climbs into my bed to snuggle and watch cartoons. This often occurs in the 5am hour so I drift in and out of sleep to the annoying tones of Dora, Boots, Swiper, Backpack and that map mothertrucker. I'M THE MAAAAAP.
Every ten minutes or so Hank looks over at me, smiles as hard as he can and smacks a kiss on my head. He's just so thrilled to be there, drinking his morning milk, watching his girl Dora and cuddling with mama he has to let it out in little squeezes and kisses.
We're attempting potty-training. More like pre-potty training. Not really forcing the issue but often waxing poetic about the awesomeness that is big boy unders and peepee in the potty. So far he will randomly request to go peepee in the potty. This is when he climbs onto the toilet (in diaper and pants) and sits there for five minutes before using toiletpaper (a full roll if left alone for thirty seconds) to "wipe" and then he winds it all up with the 2-year-old glory that is the toilet flush.
Hey. It's a start.