JACK

I have not raised male children. I have not experienced the testosterone frenzy. I have not had that pleasure. I have missed a lot of belly laughs. We imported our entertainment this afternoon and we were not disappointed. Jack-isms follow.

"Watch me run into the wall."
"I win. I win. I win. I win." (continuously for about 1 minute)
"I want candy. I want candy. I want candy. I want candy." (while waiting to go the candy store)
"My mom has a blunder." (referring to a blender)
"Don't forget to run from the dogs, Jack." (his sister, an ever present protector)
"I didn't get my candy yet."
"Watch me run into the couch."
"I like monkeys."
"The pizza is here."
"We were training your dogs to eat."
"I like the number 12."

He threw pillows. He drank milk but could not finish and demanded a straw. He aided in the baking of cookies and in the eating of them. He played an active game of Blokus. He teased the doggies in their kennel. He feigned fright. He consistently was on the move.

I had a wonderful afternoon and evening watching that little guy in action. I was not responsible for him at all. Hope was providing quality child care.

The Roderick house will never be the same.