We are not a family of small people. Sometimes that can be a good thing, like when we need to reach things that are way up high, or when the only sizes left on the sale rack are the big ones, or when carrying a 9 pound, 9 ounce baby in my tummy. But there are also many times when it's a real bummer. Today was one of those days for Luke. When going through his closet this morning, I found a little metal firetruck that I had tucked away for when he was big enough to play with it. I saw it up on the shelf and thought, "Oh, Luke is going to love this!" Sure enough when Luke saw it, he immediately went bonkers for it. I set it on the floor and kept working on some chores upstairs. Within about 45 seconds, I had a VERY ticked off man on my hands. He came running into my room saying, "Up! Up!" and holding the firetruck. I didn't understand at first, but when I put it down on the floor again, he tried to step in it. He wanted to ride inside it (isn't that what you do with cars and trucks, after all?) and wasn't able to get more than one of his big, chubby feet in. He got more and more upset, so naturally, I ran downstairs and got the camera. It was too funny not to capture for posterity and for the slide show at his rehearsal dinner. I did feel sorry for the not-so-little guy though. I feel the same way when I try to put my old clothes on.
I think if I concentrate really hard, I can totally do this.
I'll just step in right here and ...
Nooooooooooo!!!!!!!
What kind of evil trick is this?
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