Sweet Samuel

I realize that I haven't been talking-up my kids much lately on Ye Olde Blahg and I need to remedy that. Poor Sammy-Boy has been endlessly defamed in print (even if it was totally justified, the punk) so I thought I'd give him a little praise today.


Dear Sammy,

(Sorry, I mean Sammy-boy. You don't let us call you anything different!) Since I've recently reported some of your naughtier escapades on this blog, I thought I'd mention a few of the MANY things I love about you.


Right now, you're sitting on the floor in the midst of your beloved train tracks. You love train tracks, and race tracks, and trains, and race cars and vehicles of all kinds. And you're singing and talking to yourself. Right now you're singing "Me and My Yama...goin' to da Dentist todaaaaaaaay!" (See Doug's blog for the original version.) After singing a few bars, you'll switch to a dialogue between your cars and trains and maybe a pirate toy or two. Sometimes the cars sound suspiciously like your Mom. ie. "No! Dat was a BAD KOICE! You go to yo woom!" Sometimes they sound like pirates "AWOAH (arr!) MATEY! Shhwap da deck! Fight! Fight! Ging ging! Ging ging! (those are sword noises.)


I love that you're so content to entertain yourself in the mornings while Max is at school. It makes my life a whole lot easier. And gives me time for really important stuff. Like blogging. And I love it that you give Max a big hug when he does get home. Even if he doesn't want one.


I also love that you're pretty patient with your baby brother. Sure, you'll growl in his face if he messes up your train tracks. But you do love him a lot and always try to cheer him up when he's crying. (Even when you're the one who made him cry by growling in his face.)


Sam, I love your tender heart. I know I shouldn't, but I love it when you come home from preschool and tell me "I had a hawd day!" "Why, Sammy?" "Because it was so fwustwating! And embewassing! And I didn't want to be anybodies fwend!" And then we talk about what you did and you get all happy again and say you had a "Gwate day!"

I love that you get scared a lot. I know it's Maxwell's fault for sneaking up on you and ROARing really loud, but I can't help but laugh when a Backyardigan's episode makes you hide behind a chair while you force yourself to tremble dramatically.


I even sorta love it when you sneak. I know I got a little mad when I found you, a steak knife, and my half-eaten 5th Avenue candy bar in a pile of crumbs hiding in my bedroom. But that was more because I really wanted that 5th Avenue. If you'd stolen Daddy's candy bar, I probably would have just laughed. (But lay off the steak knives okay?! I'll show you how to open a candy wrapper if it'll prevent your fingers from being severed.)

Well Sam, I could go on all day. But you just went in my room, and I don't want you to find the Graham Crackers in my church bag. You could lose a finger.

Love you, Buddy!

Mommy

P.S. Thank you for finally consenting to take a bath. You smell much better now.