Mason. Mason, Mason, Mason.
Sorry if that seemed excessive - it's just refreshing to see it quietly printed and not yelled. He gets that a lot. Mostly because his mission in life is to destroy every earthly thing I care about - he was sent to humble me and remind me what's important. If you watch him (which someone always has to be) you will see the wheels turning while you're cleaning up his most recent mess; he's already looking for something else to knock over, rip, or otherwise damage. It's funny to sit and write about it - less so when you're living it. There's a lot of truth to the "mothers of sons work from son up to son down" saying. He even stresses me out when he's asleep! But between random acts of violence and terror, I catch a glimpse of a sweet, smart, kind little boy who's as handsome as he is destructive.
Everywhere we go, people comment on how adorable he is - those cheeks, big baby blues, the platinum hair, that cheeky grin. And it's all true. He can be an absolute terror and an absolute delight within seconds of one another. You never quite know who you're going to get in the morning until he wakes up - singing or screaming and then you know how your day is going to go. He's smart as a whip and knows how to use a smart phone better than most adults. It's quite scary, actually.
His birthday (like Teagan's the week before) was on a Sunday, so we decided to open a present or two before church. Sans trousers, apparently. When one has a knack for trouble as keen as this young man, one does not put one's Sunday best on until absolutely necessary.
For the first time in a long time, he didn't scream bloody murder as we entered the church's car park. A birthday miracle!
We opted for cake and ice cream at Grandma & Grandpa's with grandparents, aunts, uncles and cousins. Grandma hit another home run this year with a phenomenal birthday cake, perfectly suited for Mr. Mason who is obsessed with Baymax at the moment. And having craved attention since the day he was born, was in heaven with a whole chorus singing Happy Birthday in his direction. It was perfect for him.
His cheeks are just so kissable, they're hard to resist. When I can catch him, smooching those gigantic cheeks has been one of my favourite parts of the last two years.
Happy Birthday Mason! May your third year not harangue me to within a millimeter of insanity so we can celebrate with more balloons, streamers and unadulterated attention next year. Love you, Faceman!
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