I never want to put my children in a box.
But that being said, there are certain things about each of them that are just true.
Take Libby for example. Yesterday we were at the park. Libby went down the slide and immediately after her came a little girl (that we did not know) who was probably 2 and a half-ish. Libby waited for this girl at the bottom of the slide and then tried to pick her up to "help" her off of the slide.
This of course, made every other mother on the playground burst out laughing. I just shook my head and thought, "yes that is my daughter. She is a mother hen!"
And then there is my Emma Jane. She and I had an all out battle over a sippy cup yesterday.
She asked me for some more milk. I said, "Sure. Please bring me you cup." She said, "No, you can get it."
Oh no, honey. That is not how it works!
So I calmly informed her that if she wanted milk, she was going to have to hand me her cup. She responded by falling down on the floor and screaming.her.bloody.head.off!
I spent the next ten minutes saying, "Emma Jane! Just give me the cup and I will give you your freaking milk!" Okay, I didn't say freaking to my daughter but I was thinking it in my head!
She is just bull-headed!
And then there is John. Being only one, it is hard for me to know which facet of his personality this current behavior falls under.
It could be the adventurer/explorer in him. Or perhaps that inate male gene that is drawn to all things gross.
Who knows at this point?
What I do know is that whenever my back is turned, John takes off.
And he is always headed to the same place.
Just to check if maybe
Emma Jane someone left the door open this time.
And sometimes, he strikes, er...gold.
Not to worry, we washed hands thoroughly!