Gray Hair Giver = Keaton Bradley

Sometimes you'll hear people say, "If you want to hear God laugh, just tell him your plans". Well, we waffled back and forth on having a 3rd child. Something about when you get to that point in time, you start to really wonder if you are testing fate. We had two heathly, happy, beautiful children... what if our next babe was not so lucky. Guess what, not our choice. That's in God's hands. And we trusted God. And he was good. He was so, so good to us. We received another, healthy, happy, baby boy.

So what's your point, you might be thinking. Why would God laugh at this plan? Oh, trust me, God's definitely getting the last laugh. Yes, Keaton is happy. *usually* Yes, Keaton is healthy. *Usually* Yes, Keaton is beautiful. Handsome. Whatever. That smile...gets me everytime. That rotten, crooked grin like his Dad's. Meltworthy.

However. Jason and I are convinced that God gave this newest, beautiful, happy, healthy baby an extra dose of energy. An extra dose of curiosity. An extra dose of "what will happen if I try this", or "Eww, bet I can climb there" or "I think it'll be fun to carry the olive oil & vinegar through the house, because Mom's not smart enough to figure out how to lock up the cabinet she stores it in".

This child is into EVERYTHING. I remember Colton & Em being busy little beings. I remember feeling like they never would sit still. I remember church being basically pointless for a period of time from 12-18 months. I remember toys being basically pointless in our house....our kids were much too busy for toys to slow them down.

But Keaton....you, my child, are a whole new beast. Maybe it's that the older two demand a bunch of my attention too. Maybe I am not giving you enough attention. Perhaps this is just who you are. Let me just say now, I'm SCARED AS HELL of the terrible twos! They weren't awful with the other two, but so far, you have proved to be much different from the other two. I'm bracing myself.

I have to laugh, really...because, you bring a whole new meaning to the saying, "There's no use crying over spilled milk". Honey, you've spilt a LOT of milk.

A few weeks back, you pushed me beyond my breaking point. It started the evening before....when Colton hollers during bath, "Ugh, MOOOOOMMMMMM....get in here. We've got an emergency".............

Yes. That's you. Fully dressed. In the bathtub.

The next morning, we were up and att'em. It was a GOOD morning. We were all happy, and doing what I asked and moving AHEAD of schedule. That NEVER happens. So, I offered to do Em's hair. And it turned out beautifully:

However, in the 10 minutes it took me to curl and pull this up....you climbed onto the table in the dining room, spilled the rest of Colton's cup of milk from breakfast (basically a full cup), threw all the napkins on the floor, and were in the process of emptying both the salt & pepper shakers too. I mean, you were grinning, that was cool, but me.....I could imagine I had a RED face with STEAM blowing out of my ears. I think the big kids knew it too, because they immediately jumped in, "Keaton!! BAD BOY!"................to which I told them it was my fault for not getting it all put away before he could get to it, and then smacking your hand and taking you off the table and telling you "No, we don't climb"....when what I really wanted to say to you was, "Are you freaking kidding me kid?! What the heck?!? WHO DOES THIS!".............................so we got the milk cleaned up. I quickly swept the salt/pepper off hte floor, and we flew out to make it to school on time for Colton. Oh ya, and I think I had mopped the night before this incident too, because it never fails....the minute I put the mop away, something catastrophic like this happens. And no, I didn't take a picture. I really should have.

This is just one example. Ask Grandma. She's got text, after text, after phone call, after phone call of me going, "WHAT THE HECK PEOPLE!!!?!?"

So. God's getting the last laugh. Yes, you're happy, healthy, and beautiful...but you're ornery. Inquisitive. And making me pop gray hairs at a rate I thought could not be precedented by my inherited genes. I mean, I had it coming...right....but you sir, you pop a new gray on me daily. Cheers to hoping that once 18 months arrive....you magically become this well behaved, not into everything, not tearing htings up little guy.

A girl can dream...right? :) I know...I know....someday, I'm going to miss this. Thank GOODNESS you're cute, kiddo. And you give good hugs and kisses. :)