And since I can stretch a dollar til’ it screams, I wasn’t going to buy one until I found a REALLY deep discount. If it had to wait, so be it.

So, here is what we got, complete with tons of trains, tracks, bridges and other accessories (only a few are shown in this pic) AND a storage bench –

All for $30. Thirty dollars! I was floored. Thank you, Lord!

For right now, it’s still in the living room, but by the weekend, will be in Jonah’s room.

So he has all these cool trains, all this fun stuff to play with, but what has he latched on to?

Two little wooden signs.

They are suddenly his best friends. He carries them everywhere. He tries to pick up other things while still holding onto them.

I had to pry them out of his tight little fists to put him to bed last night. He was not happy about that, but I knew I wouldn’t be happy if he rolled over onto one in the night and it woke him up.

The first thing he did this morning was go find his signs. He tried to eat breakfast while holding them.

It’s about as bad as the kid who plays with the box instead of the toy inside…

Oh well. Whatever makes him happy!

Such as the little bottle of “sho-shun” that was on mama’s nightstand.

She left me on her bed — SILLY MAMA! — and went into the bathroom one morning.

I believe she thought I was still asleep. HA!!!

I immediately stripped off my pajamas, then grabbed the lotion.

I love pouring things. I love splashing in the things I’ve poured, and rubbing my body with them.

(I wonder if I put the cap back on, if she won’t notice?)

(Nah. This particular mess is pretty obvious.)

And once again, I am SOOOO cute that mama could only laugh at me, and strip the bed.

When Dad put away the Christmas stockings, he left all the goodies on the dining room sideboard.

Silly Daddy.

Doesn’t he know I’ve become a pro at unwrapping candy?

Even complicated Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups! NUMMY!

If you look closely, you’ll see I reached the candy by dragging over a plastic bin to climb upon. I usually use my chair, but mom and dad had it shut up in the laundry room after I pulled this stunt too many times in one day:

So I’m a little OCD about wanting to wash my hands all day long. Is that so wrong?

The other day, I got in trouble for brushing my teeth! How crazy is that?

I think maybe it was the fact that I was IN the sink, with my pajamas on, that made Mom do that, “Oh, Jonah, NO!” thing she exclaims quite often…

Oh well. As I said, Stuff Happens when you’re two. But Mom says it’s OK, because I’m so darn cute!

They serve toast, popcorn, pretzels, jellybeans and ice cream sundaes.

My dinner plate with slightly burned cheese toast — just as I like it — on a fun, turkey-printed paper plate. They only had plain buttered toast in the Charlie Brown special, but I figured we could use a little protein!

I’m always busy cooking the night before Turkey Day, so having something so simple and fun for dinner is ideal to me! And the kids just love this little tradition. This was the first year that Jonah really knew what was going on. When he first saw his dinner plate, he did a double-take, as if he couldn’t believe his good fortune to climb into his chair and find a plate heaped with popcorn, pretzels AND candy! I couldn’t even get him to sit down for a while — he just stood there, happily shoveling popcorn into his mouth.

I love my family! And I love Thanksgiving!

And yes, I love my crazy husband with his totally goofy expressions!

In other Thanksgiving news, just for fun, I had the boys fill in a turkey poem prompt as part of their schoolwork this week. (Each sentence began with phrases to describe the turkey, such as, “It needs….” “It moves….” and they filled in the rest.)

What they came up with just cracked me up! Disturbing? Maybe if you aren’t accustomed to the ways of boys. And these sons of mine are utterly, totally, testosterone-charged BOYS!

Here is Zach’s:

It sees the gun in its face.

It hears the pump cock.

It feels the shiver down its spine.

It understands that it’s going to become dinner.

It moves left to right.

It needs to get out of sight!

It likes to get an adrenaline rush.

It wants a chase through the woods.

It eats one last berry, for good.

It dreams, asleep forever. It’s dead.

And Eli’s, with a rather humorous twist:

It sees the bazooka from far away.

It hears the bazooka fire.

It feels scared.

It understands its death.

It moves out of the way.

It needs pie.

It likes man.

It wants the man.

It eats the man.

It dreams good.

The end.

This column ran in yesterday’s edition of The Covington News.

They say that energy is wasted on the young. I think that the concept of time is wasted on them, too. Remember when you were little, and it seemed that an entire lifetime stretched out between summer vacation and Christmas? Sometimes I wish life still passed by in that slow-as-molasses way, where there was time for everything you wanted to do. It isn’t fair how life speeds up as you get older, how one minute you’re hugging your newborn, and the next, they’re toddling away from you.

At least that is how the past two years have felt to me. My sweet little Jonah turns two years old tomorrow and I can scarcely believe it. The only thing that makes the time feel longer is when I reflect on how many months I’ve gone without a full night’s sleep—then it feels like the boy should be applying to UGA right about now.

But the bigger part of me doesn’t even mind the exhaustion, because I know that barring some truly miraculous heavenly intervention, this is my last baby. And oh, how I have cherished Jonah’s babyhood! Some would say too much, particularly when I complain about that lack of sleep. Because let’s face it—I could’ve been better about sleep-training him, and by now he’d be sleeping in his own bed independently every night like his brothers were by this age. I could’ve had a third child who never came into my bed unless something was awfully wrong.

But that would’ve meant giving up our nighttime cuddles, and listening to him cry and I just haven’t wanted to put any of us through that. So instead of simply tucking him in and saying prayers, I have to lie down with him for half an hour before every nap and bedtime—and he invariably ends up snuggled between me and my husband at some point before daylight breaks.

Does that equal lazy parenting? I don’t know—I think these days the politically-correct term might be “attachment parenting.” I just call it cherishing time that flies by too fast and will never come again. And if that makes me wrong, I don’t want to be right.

I was made to have babies. Well, my soul was made to have babies—my body fought me every step of the way. I’ve had multiple miscarriages, and without medication to treat polycystic ovarian syndrome, I’d have never had any of my sons because of the infertility associated with the disease. Maybe it’s a hidden blessing that children didn’t come easily to me—if they had, I would’ve had ten, and heaven knows we wouldn’t have been able to afford that.

But my heart could’ve easily opened to a dozen children and I think that’s why Jonah’s second birthday is so bittersweet for me. It marks the end of the baby years. He’s getting so tall and thin. We look at his baby pictures, and my older sons laugh at how chubby Jonah used to be. I miss those pudgy fat rolls, those toothless smiles, the way his tiny body curled so perfectly against my chest.

Now he’s all long and lanky, and so busy—turning his yogurt into finger paint, drizzling juice on his daddy’s chair, and scribbling on the wall with thankfully washable crayons. He can point to and correctly name all numbers 1 through 10, and most letters of the alphabet. Today, he saw a picture in a book of a boy sleeping, and started snoring at the image. He loves making goofy faces and sound effects, and when he burps, he shouts “Funny! Funny! YAY!” and loudly applauds himself. I can thank his big brothers for teaching him that.

He exudes joy, except for when he’s feeling shy, or I’m making him do something he doesn’t want to do, such as walk into a room full of strangers. Then he collapses onto the floor and freezes, telling himself, “OK…” in this shaky little voice, like he’s trying to convince himself that it really will be OK.

That’s pretty much how I feel as my baby turns two, and we close the chapter of life that included having babies at home. Like Jonah, my chin is quivering and my eyes are misting as I say, “OK…” But just like my boy facing something big and unknown, I’m doing a terrible job of convincing myself that there is anything fine about it.

Ok, I haven’t had a toddler in seven years. So maybe I don’t remember at what age the other boys did this, but…Jonah really amazed his ol’ parents tonight. Keep in mind that he won’t be two til the end of this month.

I let him play with a set of colorful foam letter stamps tonight. I heard him saying “O”, “Y”, “T”…he often jibber-jabbers random letters of the alphabet so I didn’t think he was actually matching the letters with the appropriate names.

Until I looked.

And saw him pick up “E” and “A” and “B”, saying all their names as he did it. I called Donnie over and we just laughed out loud as he continued to pick up random letters and name them correctly. Because we haven’t really taught him this. (As a matter of fact, I had zero plans to do any “official” homeschooling with him besides reading books together, coloring, etc. until he was at least four.)

Since they were stamps, that means some of the letters appeared backwards, so, not wanting to confuse the tot, we got out a set of wooden ABC blocks. These also had numbers printed on them.

“Four! Three! Seven!” (which sounded like “seh-zen”.) All correct. He accurately named 1 through 9 as we showed him each number in random order.

He was really having fun with this, occasionally throwing a block on the floor and saying “Uh-woah” (his version of “uh-oh”) then cracking up while his dad fetched the blocks. He mixed up a couple of letters, like calling the letter “U” a “V”—and saying “O” for “Q” but I’ll give him those. After all, they are close in shape. And did I mention he’s not yet two?

Yes, I am shamelessly bragging, and quite obviously biased, but I think we’ve got one smart cookie over here.

Actually, make that three smart cookies. While I’m in full-on Mom Brag Mode, let me tell you that on Friday, Zach got an A on his Bible and history quizzes, while Eli scored a 100 on his spelling test and 96 on his first unit Language Arts test.

Yeah…I’m proud of my smart boys!

I prayed for a calm, peaceful child. I even named him Jonah (Hebrew for ‘dove’, the symbol of peace) because of what it meant. I just knew that a God that would bless me with a third baby so late in life would know that I needed a quiet, peaceful, laid-back child and grant me that accordingly.

Well…you know what they say about assuming things, don’t you?

You already know about his outrageously terrible sleeping habits. But the child is an absolute monkey! Which is probably why he laughs in glee whenever Curious George comes on TV. He senses a real kindred spirit there.

Yesterday, he found a black (thankfully, washable) marker and climbed into the empty hutch cabinet he’s claimed as his own. (We call it “Jonah’s Hideaway.”) He then proceeded to tattoo himself—thankfully, avoiding his face.

Because “washable” black marker leaves semi-permanent green marks over pale human skin. (Kinda like real tattoos as they age, huh?)

He stole the camera and took some more photos of his face. Here is a collage I made of just a few of the dozens of Jonah-self-portraits I found when I uploaded my pics:

He dragged a chair over to the sideboard in the dining room and emptied the entire salt shaker over the the antique Scrabble board game on top of the sideboard, the chair, his feet and the floor.

And ten minutes ago, he walked up and grabbed my arm. And his hand was sticky.

And that is never a good sign.

Except this time, it was a truly terrible sign, because then I smelled it.

Yeah, my young primate had been digging in his diaper. I guess he needed to learn more about those nasty presents he makes for us every day.

And I’m all “Ohmygosh…ohmygosh…ohmygosh—DONNIEEEEEEEEEEEE!”

Thankfully, the husband was home, and thankfully, the child loves to wash his hands. Just loves it. If he could choose between Disney World and a sink with stool beside it, he’d go for the sink every time.

So we washed, not just hands, but legs and feet. And of course, my arm. And the floor. And then we changed the diaper, and put little Houdini back in his cloth diapers, whose bulletproof covers do not provide anywhere near the easy access he has in disposables.

(Confession time: we got used to using ‘sposies while on vacation a few weeks ago and slipped back into our Huggies habit. Not anymore! Another huge benefit of cloth diapering!)

You know, neither of the other boys ever played with their poop. Zach couldn’t stand getting his hands dirty–the first time I presented him with finger paints, he writhed and moaned like I was torturing him. Eli was a messy child, and has always loved getting his hands into stuff. But the thought of poo-painting never, ever occurred to him.

So I (smugly, wrongly) thought that we just didn’t make “those” kind of kids, the kind that would actually play in their own poop.

Ha!

I guess if you have enough kids, you end up getting one of every kind.

Let’s just hope that he doesn’t figure out how to break into his cloth diapers anytime soon. Because what happened today is MORE than enough for me!

I wish I had a better camera to capture the colorful remains of Jonah’s snack and coloring time this morning.

Better start looking for those missing purple and black crayons!

Hey, there’s more than one way to have church. But I digress.

So, here is Jonah clinging to my shirt, eyes pleading:

“I know this room is adorably decorated and filled with fun toys and cute kids to play with who are all close to my age, but Mama, PLEASE don’t leave me in this most horrible of all horrible places!!!”

But of course, he saw that I wasn’t going anywhere, and soon released his death-grip, taking ever-lengthening journeys away from me. He made it all the way over to the TV, where Veggie Tales was playing.

Then he played a bit next to Mr. T:

And then Jonah picked up the baby doll on top of the toy bin.

I thought, “Oh how sweet! He doesn’t have a doll at home. He wants to cuddle the baby doll!”

He studied that smiling, bald-headed, hard plastic face a moment, then turned to me and….

“WAAAHHHHH!” He totally burst into terrified tears! He flung the doll into my arms, and I was like, “Jonah, look, it’s just a baby doll. This is how you cuddle the baby,” and held it to my chest.

Which only made him freak out even more, that his beloved mother was cuddling that…THING. That most awful, human-looking but not-human-feeling THING.

I wondered if maybe it wasn’t the doll but another random toddler fit, so I turned the doll around so Jonah could see its face, wiggled it, and said “Hi, Jonah!”

At which time my boy fell into a heap, bawling, while I and the other mothers in the room did a terrible job of restraining our laughter.

I mean, honestly, it wasn’t Chucky! Just a precious-faced little baby doll that totally terrorized the heck out of my son.

I shouldn’t laugh, but…bwahahaha! Poor kid. I guess it is a really good thing he doesn’t have any sisters!

1. I hold this mouse gingerly and type cautiously, for my carpal tunnel is inflamed.

2. Donnie is someone I like to travel with because he is awesome at fitting into the trunk all the suitcases stuffed with all the crap useful items I pack. Because I pack like my mother—as if we were going on an Arctic expedition, desert trek and swimming fling, all in the course of one week.

3. That day, on vacation, when we were eating dinner and Donnie felt a sudden splash against his leg, and we realized it was because Jonah had fished his winkie out the side of his diaper and shot a pee across to his father—now THAT was funny!

4. Can you believe we’ve already said goodbye to over half of this year???

5. Trust in God alone, because even the best of men will at some point, let you down.

6. Now that we’ve removed his night light, it’s amazing how much better Jonah sleeps in the dark.

7. And as for the weekend, tonight I’m looking forward to getting some work done, tomorrow my plans include hanging out with my sister and Sunday, I want to maybe squeeze in a nap between morning church services and the beginning of VBS that night!

Click over to Friday Fill-ins to make your own list!