My Lil' Golfer

Yesterday My baby boy Porter-Pot turned 4.

Now, I know that he technically is not my baby boy anymore.

I know that, but I don't feel it.



For a long while, Porter was the baby. The last one.

And I held onto him. I might have tried to keep him a baby for longer than he should have been, but I couldn't help it.

And now that Mr. Wyatt has joined us, I'm trying my hardest to let go.

But it ain't easy.



P.G. is all-boy. He likes big trucks, airplanes, ropes, guns, tools and golf. He loves watching Phineas and Ferb, Fireman Sam, and Mighty Machines (if you have a boy, buy this show. And thank me later).

He eats almost nothing... "lunchables"- which is lunch meat rolled up served with chips- hot dogs, and chicken. Pretzels, "fishy" crackers, corn on the cob (and on the cob only) and marshmallows are mainly what you munch on. No bread, pasta, fruit, beef... but he will eat Mahi Mahi.



This past year was amazing watching this little guy develop from the baby I was making him into the boy that he is. No more sitting on my lap while we're catching up on Scooby Doo- now he sits on the ground with his trucks laying around him and every once in a while glances up at the TV. No more holding my hand in the store, now he climbs on the front of the cart and windsurfs.

And he's started calling my "mudder"- which is mother in Porter-talk.




Yet, when I get home after leaving him, he still runs to me, throws his little arms around my neck and says, "I missed you!" Talk about melting your heart.

He still wants to give me kisses and picks me wildflowers. And he loves watching me sew.



But now he prefers Dad over me. He wears his hat with his sunglasses on the brim like Dad. He pushes his Little Tykes lawnmower behind Dad when he mows the weeds... I mean grass. He wants to fix things, kill the ants, start the car... just like Dad. Dad, Dad, Dad. That's what Porter is all about.

Yet he stills loves helping me cook (mostly because he likes stealing licks when my back is turned) and he always comes running when I'm unloading the dishwasher.



Porter's three favoritist hobbies are: 1) Teasing his sisters. 2) Loving Wyatt. 3) Teasing his sisters. He loves to hear the girls scream. He also just wants their attention, and when they ignore him, I am sure to hear a yell of pain soon after. But he loves his baby brother.



Porter likes to make people laugh. Whether it's telling the same old knock-knock joke over and over, or reenacting someone's moment of embarrassment, Porter will not stop until everyone is laughing (or at least forcing a chuckle out).




Ever since Aunt Whitney let him play with her stethoscope, Porter has wanted to be a doctor.

And my guess is that if that's what he really wants to be, he'll do it. This kid has more concentration and dedication than I have- just watch him tie his knots, or line up a shot in golf, or beg for a bag of chips at 8 o'clock in the morning. The kid won't stop until he either has what he wants or is in time out for throwing a mega-fit when told no (I'm talking about the chips).



I'm trying to sum up this little boy in this one post, but that just is not possible (especially when he is is the other room making his big sister cry).

My friend posted this quote on Facebook the other day, and I fell in love with it:

"Little boys come in all shapes and sizes,

Shy and adventurous, full of surprises,

With misshapen halos and mischievous grins,

Small dirty faces, and sweet, sticky chins.

They'll keep you so busy, and yet all the while

Nothing can brighten the world like their smile.

And no greater treasure has brought homes more joy

Than a curious, active, and lovable boy!"

Porter is my little rascal with the face of an angel and the fit-throwing ability of a champion. He makes me smile so much my cheeks hurt one minute, than pull my hair out in frustration the next.

Porter is "Poder Gwant Merrow".

And that is all I ever want him to be.