Russ is 2 1/2 years old. And he does a lot of little things that are my favorite. He is happy and he gives little grins flung in your direction all day long. He also is afraid of heights, but jumps out of the car after pressing the button to shut the door and into my arms with this brave little jump and flings his arms around me and holds on tight--I love that he takes that leap of faith towards me every time he gets out of the van. I love how square his shoulders are and how square his feet are (they are weirdly square and it is so incredibly adorable).
But my absolute favorite thing right now, something that brings me absolute joy every single time- is when he holds my hands. They're kind of square too. And they are thick and strong feeling. Most of my kids have very long thin fingers that feel pretty tiny and delicate when you hold them. But Russ has these hammy hands. They remind me of my dad. We call them bear paws. And he holds them really tight when he's nervous or a little scared. And I almost want to make him nervous about something just to get to enjoy holding his warm chubby hand forever. And ever and ever.
He is also 2 1/2 years old. So I change his diaper after chasing after him and basically tackling him to the floor, and then when I get his pants on he manages to run away EVERY SINGLE TIME before I get his shirt on and he finds it absolutely hilarious. He is constantly trying to do everything on his own. We're at that tug of war stage where I'm trying to contain the mess and he wants to be so independent. He gets this huge grin when manages to win me over. When he convinces me to let him eat on the bench with the big kids instead of on his booster chair. Or pour in the cup of flour. Or press the buttons on my phone. Or when he says something basically unintelligible but I repeat it back and it's exactly what he was trying to say-he lights up. He is always so proud. And it's adorable. But oh goodness, it's so exhausting.
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