We get to play with this character when we come to PA.He's quite a hamball.
He's hilarious to watch.
Oh, and his name is Carter.
But he goes by Gus.
It's his wrestling name, I'm convinced.
He's requesting that Charlie, my 2 year old, change his diaper.
This must be how he ropes his next victim in...
watch.
Charlie figured out what was going on and ran the opposite direction, out the door and down the street.Carter was upset that his mommy had to change his diaper instead and decided to take it out on my sweet innocent son.
Just kidding.
A wrestling match ignited and there was no stopping it.
Chelsea (Carter's mom) and myself stood at the two corners of the wrestling match and protected our wrestlers from any harm a couch corner or desk could bring.
Oh, and we laughed. A lot.
Did I mention Chelsea has another boy growing in her belly?
This should add even more fun in the years to come when these guys decide to duke it out on the floor at the drop of a hat.
Believe it or not, there were no tears shed during this wrestling match.Chelsea and I were counting down, just waiting to rush in and console our babies, then throw them back in the ring.
It never came.
And might I add that this little guy, Carter, the youngest of the group, was one tough cookie.He must wrestle with his dad, I thought.
I fear this would be my plight IF, big IF, I were to go and get myself impregnated, yet again.'Cause you know it would be a boy....as my husband says, "We Gilmore's don't make girls..."
blah.
My life would be one big wrestling match.
Things were starting to migrate into the next room.These two have each other in a head lock.
Then a thought crossed their minds that it could be naptime.
"What's that mom? You said nap?"
Charlie: "HECK no! I gotta beat this little dude. He's waaaay smaller than me. I gotta make my daddy proud." Carter: "I own you."
.....to be continued.
