Mo was on a roll Sunday morning.
We we are all - and I mean all four of us - snuggled in our bed around 6 a.m. Somehow, the little ones always end up cuddled up next to us in the morning. But I'm not complaining. Mama needs her cuddle time.
Curly usually just curls up next to me and falls back asleep. But Sunday he was crabbing. Climbed up and sat on my belly, flailing his arms and making angry faces. Most have woken up on the sourpuss side of the bed.
I didn't say a word. But Mo looks at him sternly, and says very adult-like, "Hey Baby Brother, I don't like that yucky attitude."
He got Curly to laugh a little, after giving him some raspberries (as in blowing on his skin, not the seedy red berry). Then Mo opens up the blanket and offers, "Hey little Baby, come into my hug jar. I'll give you some cuddles."
He's such a sweet big brother! Too bad Curly just wanted to get down and pull out the contents of my bathroom drawers.
And then Mo had another great line later that morning when we were on the way to Farm-N-Fleet.
He says: "Are we almost at the Farmer Feet?"