I love my son. I look at him, and I smile. I love his face, his chipped little teeth, his dimples. I love his belly (which he loves to show off), his feet, and his little tush. Even more, I love his smiles, his giggles, and the fact that he is actually quite chivalrous for a little guy. He is NICE. And he is SWEET. And he is FUNNY with a capital F!

That being said, I don’t GET him. I don’t think it’s him, exactly, but boys in general. I just don’t get it. Boys are just SO different from girls.

Where did he learn to climb on furniture, and jump off? Who does that?

Speaking of furniture, does he have to rearrange ours, daily? I rather like where our couch is, thankyouverymuch, and don’t need my 18 month old moving it around the room. Regularly. Seriously.

Why does everything {EVERYTHING} have to be thrown? Toys. Food. Shoes. His own head. That’s right. He will throw his own head into my stomach. That’s pleasant.

Why does uneaten food have to be jammed in his ears? That one just started this morning. Lovely.

Where did he learn to stand in front of me and fall, stiff as a board? What if I, one day, look away for a second and don’t catch him?

Oh, and please tell me why he thinks it is a good idea to, while sitting in his booster seat, put his feet up on the table, and push back? The result was not pretty, as you can imagine. Lots of crying. Oh, but don’t worry – he tried it again the very next day.

Zackary is by far the sweetest little boy I know. He wants to make sure everyone has THEIR stuff, so he’ll find things from all over the house, and bring it to its owner. No matter if we want it at that moment or not, we must have it. Oh, or he’ll throw it at us.

There is that throwing thing again.

He is hilarious. And so caring. And, just so… BOY. And, I love him and am so proud of him with every little bit of my heart.

(He looks calm and peaceful, doesn’t he? HA!)

I think of my grandma when I think of “Counting Cheerios.” Why, you ask? Because she made us count the Cheerios in a box when we were bad.

Just kidding! (She only did that with cactus on the side of the road. Seriously. We live in AZ.)

Movingrightalong… my grandma used to go to extremes to ensure that my sister and I got exactly the same amount of, well, everything. You know, the same amount of Christmas gifts, cookies, love (plentiful, by the way), and cereal. The family joke is that we are “counting Cheerios” anytime we’re making sure something is even. Fair. 50/50. Grandma is probably so proud.

Anyhow, in the spirit of “counting Cheerios,” here is a post devoted to our second born, Zac.

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Here is our happy boy now!

What is wrong with him, you ask? Well, I committed the terrible deed of offering him peanut butter. It was his first. I was excited. He wanted it because, well, his sister had peanut butter crackers (“counting…” ok, you get it).

Sadly, Zac is not YET a peanut butter fan. I say “sadly” because if you know me, you know that I. Love. Peanut. Butter. Luckily, there is still time… sometimes acquired tastes are the best!

Here is how he normally looks, especially while eating:

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Another thing you should know about Zac: He loves dirt.

Mud. Grit. All of it. Loves it.

He loves being outside. And active. Oh, and throwing things. And attempting to put rocks through windows at his aunt and uncle’s brand new house.

Ahem, sorry ’bout that.

Turns out, he is a boy. I mean, yes, obviously he is a boy. But I mean he is a B.O.Y – BOY.

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He also LOVES his sister. And he LOVES hugs. Hugs from his sister are the best!

This kid seriously has it all! He has a sensitive side a mile wide.

I love how he brings people things that he knows are theirs. Like Lilly’s teddy bears. He can not stand it if they are laying on the floor – he HAS to bring them to HER. So sweet!

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So, there you have it. Cheerios have been counted (4927 btw… did I really count those? Or did I guess? We do have children, so we have Cheerios….then again, am I crazy enough to count them all? That, my friends, is my little secret).

Grandma would be proud… proud that we are “counting Cheerios,” but even more so proud of the beautiful and kind little beings that are growing up…  Way. Too. Fast.