The possibility exists that the cutest 3 year old in existence lives in my house:
I've been trying really hard not to eat him alive but there have been a couple close calls. It doesn't help that he's a world class cuddler and I'm a girl that enjoys some cuddle.
As if his mad cuddle skills weren't enough to help me fall even deeper into the rabbit hole of undying motherly devotion, he's also currently in the midst of a lovey dovey super sweet kid of the year phase that includes lots of random hugs and kisses. It also includes a lot of sitting in your lap, squeals of delight over everything you do and eagerness to help with anything. My personal favorite was one day laying in bed together when he leaned over, gazed into my eyes, placed his hand softly on my cheek and whispered, "I love you, Momma. You a good Momma, Momma." Um. Yeah. I think I can die happy now so long as someone promises to tell that story at my funeral. Maybe I should buy him a car first, though. Nothing says you are the best thing that ever happened to me like buying someone a car.
It's too bad he couldn't be bothered to look the least bit cute for his class Thanksgiving party:
Sheesh. I mean, really. Is that the best he can do? Chubby cheeks and a goofy outfit? I suppose you'd have me believe his tongue sticking out in concentration as he learns to ride his sister's hand me down bike is cute, too:
And in case anyone's concerned about a boy riding a pink princess bike, that's the least of this kid's problems. Here he is wearing his sister's princess towel while he waits for his servants to draw his bath for him:
What's that you ask? What is the strange man next to him doing? Gee, you mean not everyone kicks the bubble bath up a notch with the paint stirring attachment for their drill?:
That's so odd. Because my husband swears that's perfectly normal.