His sleeping went from bad to worse and he went from potty trained to frequent accidents. Tantrums abound and he is difficult to have focus on anything.
BUT...he is hilarious, creative, unbelievably sweet, and simply fun to be around, particularly if you can find him without his older brother. Oh and he is cute.
I wrote Stella a prayer around her birthday, you can read it here. Her prayer is more about her total life, but I thought I should just focus on the current life with Cole. There is much to pray for now.
Please watch over my Cole. He needs your protection.
I need your help.
Cole is excessively slick. It scares me.
His ability to grab my face while I am reprimanding him to tell me how much he loves me, while kissing my hand, is a dangerous talent. He will get away with far too much due to his charm. Please help me prevent him from believing his kisses and sweet smile will charm him out of any trouble....even though I think it could.
It's important to get in trouble every now and then.
Grant him the wisdom to realize that peeing your pants instead of using the toilet so that you don't have to wash your hands is simply nuts. Please hurry. After my extreme efforts, I know only you will be able to teach him that this is in fact the truth.
Allow him to experience the joy of sleeping when he is tired. His constant efforts to keep himself up by running around the house, coloring, singing, or pretending to have to poop for twenty to thirty minutes while he tells stories about the poop, are wearing thin on those of us that are doing our best to get him to sleep, and are simply sad to see when he is so exhausted.
Give him words when he gets frustrated doing things like picking out his clothes so that he can ask for help instead of freaking out, rolling on the floor, and telling me he hates me. This baffles me. I don't enjoy this, and I like to think that he doesn't either, but I could be wrong. It seems like a lot more work than simply asking me to help him with his shirt, though definitely more dramatic.
Show him the joy of playing with something other than his pretend shotgun and his new General Grievous mask. He is scaring children on the playground, and I find myself slightly disturbed when he walks into a room with both of these horrid toys.
Don't ever let him forget the joy of singing the Veggie Tales song, his made up songs about his penis, or Rhianna's What's My Name. The variety of these songs alone makes me happy beyond words.
Give him knowledge and acceptance about the joy of coloring on paper, and paper alone. My furniture and walls can handle no more of Cole's creativity.
Never, ever let him realize that pancakes isn't pronounced pam-pakes, instructions aren't constructions, and explode is not instode. These words are far too cute. I'm sure he'll be accepted at college for other cool things he does, but let him keep his words.
Allow him to understand that there is in fact a difference between joking and lying, and saying, "I'm joking because I'm a joker," while cute beyond words, doesn't allow to be released from the responsibility of owning up to his lie.
Finally, help him realize that he can do more than he thinks he can. He is not only Aiden's little brother, but also Stella's big brother, and an amazing boy all on his own. Quiet Aiden's words of criticism and correction and turn up the volume on the praise he receives from Alex and me and others. He too often sells himself short.
Bless him. Keep him safe from the sucky people. Keep him healthy. Keep him happy.
Oh...one more thing. Please, oh please, open his heart to the idea that matching a red shirt with red shorts is simply a horrible idea. Allow him to see the joy of matching clothing so as to not look like one giant blob of monochromatic color. I know it must be in him somewhere, deep down.