Here's a typical night in our house, re-created through interpretative dance. No? You don't want to see me in a one-piece leotard. Fine. Here are some pictures.
Oh lord. If I could be guaranteed that every child would be just like Oliver I would be pregnant from now until the day I die.
Those eyes, that smirky look while he sucks back a grape freeze, one arm (always) behind his head. This child kills me, I'm ruined.
Uh oh, I think that may have been a bit too much...I think...
Yep, brain freeze.
Those eyes. Oh lord, those eyes.
After a freezie it's time to get our paint on.
To paint, or not to paint...
I'm not so sure that it's a fan on the yellow.
Is it just me or does it look like he's plotting something here? Truth be told, I'm pretty sure he was, because he geared up to a major fit about 5 seconds after this picture was taken.
And here's Oliver about to flip the painting (the wet painting) onto the hardwood. Good times.
Phew, we're back to Oliver's usual self, and into a much needed bath.
Showing off by stacking his cups together.
I die. My two guys.
Look Dad, I hate to break it to you, but there are supposed to be tiles here because this here tap turns on water, and water and drywall don't mix. (He can barely string a word together but those eyes, those eyes are full of back talk)
I swoon. Again.
After the bath we headed over to uncle Tim and Jenny's for a quick visit which turned into tractor rides and a pizza dinner. Yep, it was a pretty good darn night.
Tim and Jenny were just finishing pulling down a tree and had the tractor out. Oliver, observant little thing that he is, started pointing at it as soon as he saw it. Uncle Tim obliged and took him around the property for a ride, which he loved. For the next hour Oliver would point at the tractor, then point at Tim, then they'd go for a ride. I really wish I hadn't left the camera at home. That'll teach me.