Big Foot Brig 18 mos.

Officially 3 ft tall, and a size 10, he's going to outgrow his sister in no time. Actually, they wear the same size shoe. Thankfully her feet are long and slender and his are almost as wide as they are long. Honkin' big feet. On his feet are his "oofs".

Me today: Brigham, would you like to put on some pants?

Brigham: Moe, ooofs (no, shoes)

Me: Brigham, we aren't going anywhere, how about we put on your shirt and pants.

Brigham: MOE! OOOFS! (NO! SHOES!)

And he wins. No shirt, no shorts only oooofs. He let us know when he's ready for bed. "Bobble, bobble, bobble. . ." until somebody answers, "You want a bottle?" Then "Owl, owl, owl . . ." until somebody says, "You want a bottle and your owl blanket?". Lastly "biper, biper, biper . . ." and we say "Yes, Brigham, you want your bottle, you owl and your diaper changed so you can go to bed." Brigham then smiles and begins his farewells. "Booop. Booop! Die, die" until Luke answers and bids farewell and good night. Then "Tis'ter, Tister" "Nanny", "I" and so on until everyone has wished Brigham a nice nap. Then there's the whole daddy worship side. I'm just not used to this. Mommy holds nothing in Daddy's shadow. Oh how I adore that very insane child who incedentally drown, several pair of clothes, a Netflix DVD and the envelop and a remote control in his sisters bath tonight while I was making dinner. He is at the moment consoling his sister because she can't have a banana before dinner. Here sister, lay your head down on my lap while I stroke your hair.