Tank

That's what we call this busy, busy boy.

Mostly because he is a bit round, tough, and nothing can stop him.

He was the perfect little baby.  Never crying, not demanding.  Just so sweet and so very doll-like.

Notice how I said WAS?  Mr. Wyatt is now a toddler with his own stubborn little mind (that comes from his dad *cough*) and unbelievably quick moves.

He has also turned into a little bit of a cryer.  Ok, ok, if I was being honest I would tell you that he probably spends a majority of his awake-time crying.  And screaming.  And throwing himself down onto the floor, red-faced, and angry.  With snot running out of his nose.

But hey, that's life with a one-year-old.  At least around here.

Clarky-Boy is the happiest when he's outside.

Lucky for him he has a few awesome siblings who are usually not always  happy to watch him run around in the backyard.

He does a lot of running into stuff, falling off of stuff, and just plain tripping over his own feet.

But he doesn't cry too long over it.  What usually starts the waterworks is if someone walks outside without him or if someone won't hand him their iPod, or if Porter comes close to him.

Yeah, those two have a complicated relationship.

Wyatt has discovered his love of cheese.  His favorite thing in the world is when Mom cuts up tiny squares of cheese for him to shove into his mouth.

Kinda reminds me of this fella:

He loves the theme song to Mighty Machines




And he thinks that it is hilarious when someone sneezes.

He still loves his pacifier, and I am honestly not in any hurry to take it away from him.  The other day Adi stuck it in his mouth when he was crying and said, "It's like an off switch, isn't it?"

Yes, Adi.  Yes it is.

Wyatt loves the vacuum, playing in the toilet water (something we try to discourage), eating hot dogs, playing with Porter's big trucks, breaking the remote control, a sippy cup of apple juice, dancing to Dynamite, getting his feet rubbed with baby lotion, baths, Daddy's dirt bike, and pounding on the computer keyboard.

He now says "Mom", "Dadda", and "Uh-uh-oh".  Yep.  That's it.   But that's ok since I can tell he is merely trying to perfect the art of non-verbal communication before he moves onto the English language.

I know I complain about this little dude to my friends.  I think that it isn't so much that he cries an abnormal amount, but more because I've forgotten what it's like to have a toddler running around the house.  But when I pick him up out of bed in the morning, I fall in love with him all over again as he wraps his chubby little arms around my neck, squeezes, and says "Momma".  My oh my, I fall hard.

I honestly cannot remember how my life worked before this mini-Merrill was in it.

Love you, my baby boy.

***I almost forgot to give credit to my dear sis-in-law Stephanie for taking the pictures!***