You are quite the little man these days. Aside from pulling out your classmate's (and girlfriend's) pacifier so that you can more easily plant a kiss on her lips and her returning the peck a few minutes later, you are pretty much the running-around-and-getting-into-everything-child that I thought you would be.
I love it, definitely. It wears me out, definitely. And I'm tired of re-stocking the toilet paper in the upstairs guest bathroom, definitely.
Several nights ago, you did what I suspected was only a matter of time. You dug your hand deep into the container of dog food in our pantry and shoved as much of it into your mouth as you possibly could. Thank goodness for clumbsiness and small hands, I guess, because we think that only one - or two - of those scrumptious bites of Eukanuba dog food made it into your digestive system. As you pointed out, it's OK because Echo eats your food...so it's only fair to return the favor. Right? I tried to talk your dad into taste testing Echo's food last night but he wasn't having it. Not unless I tried the food first. And THAT, obviously, was not in the cards for us.
Besides eating PLENTY of food, what else are you into? Well, you love the toilet. You love to almost throw things into it (luckily we catch you just in time). You love communicating with us in sign language that your dad started teaching you six (or more) months ago. "Please", "thank you", "more", and "milk" are all signs that we communicate with on a daily basis. Obviously, your dad and I mistake this for nothing less than your budding genius skills.
You love to run. And fall. And tumble. Today we received a call with an "incident report" from your school. I no longer panic when I receive these calls because they are fairly regular - - at least one a week. Well, today was the most serious: you fell in the indoor gym and had a knot the size of a golfball on your forehead to prove it. You didn't seem to mind, and the teachers were not in a panic, so we were OK after we got that call. We love you and always want you to be safe, but we've also learned that you are 200% B-O-Y. You fall, you tumble, you trip and you just keep on going. Unless, of course, someone is looking. If they see you, then the tears come rushing down those super sweet and squeezable cheeks.
Connor, you make us smile every day. Probably 100 times a day. I have been known to walk really really fast (almost run) in my work heels when I pick you up at school because I cannot wait to hug you. And hold you. And, of course, I always look forward to seeing Mr. Bunny (or Nu Nu, as you call him), too.
I love you, Connor.