50/50

According to the good doc, Trace weighs 50 pounds, and according to Grandaddy (our other good "Doc") he is exactly 50 inches tall. He's fity,fity.

Oh my boy. He's SUCH a handful, but has the kindest, sweetest little heart. He is always offering Jimmy and I his last bite, always willing to share and include others in whatever joy he's found. With all that's gone on these past 10 months, while he's at times strived for attention, he has maintained an adoration for Keatyn that melts my heart everyday.

He's still her most favorite person and he often asks me if he can go wake her up when she's napping so he can play with her. On the rare occasion I say yes, I can hear and watch them on the monitor laughing and clowning together, usually with every pillow and stuffed animal he can fit in the crib with them. He greets her in the morning with a "good morning sugarbooger" and loves to kiss her head at night before she goes up.

(For memory sake, I want to remember these sweet times, and save it to read to them when they can't stand the sight of each another.)

He really stole some hearts at the old folks home during Sittersize the other day.

He's recently gotten into "self portraits." He illustrated, and then in detail explained this picture of himself he drew in the driveway."There's my head (he's gotten somewhat of the 'big head' it seems), there's my legs, and that's my du-danky in the middle." (We've now begun working on portion control.) Luckily, it rained the next day.

Lately, every time I go to download my pictures, I find more of these...
There were 18 in a row on the last stretch. All tonsils, teeth, and nostrils.

At least there's no du dankies.

Yet.