To my boys: the stuff I keep forgetting to write in your baby books...

Disclaimer: This is one of those typical, I-just-have-to-tell-you-about-my-kids kind of posts. If you're not into that thing, I wouldn't be offended if you move on. 

Josh:
Your attention can be easily captured by water going down the drain, a bug on the cement, a puddle waiting to be waded in.

My favorite phrase of yours is "Here you go, Mama."  This is said most often when you hand me something I asked for (a candy wrapper or a gallon of milk you are trying to pour yourself) or decide to listen. (You run around the car in a parking lot, grinning and daring me to chase you, and then stop by the door to your car seat, smile, and say, "Here you go, Mama.")

You have one remaining pacifier (your "bite") that is cracked and worn, and your Dad I keep saying that when it turns up missing, it will be gone. But, we've known to stop the car on the side of the road to search for it under seats and in crevices -- that thing is like magic.

You love to eat -- especially any food an adult has on their plate, Great Grandma's potatoes, icy pops, french fries, and your new favorite, sweet corn.

You love music in the car and often request for mama to turn it "up, up!"

I serve as your interpreter often -- "WaWa" is Grandma and Caleb, "bee bee" is blankie, "Mee Mouse" is a request to watch Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, but you can say "tractor" and "no" with unmistakable clarity.

You don't just throw things -- you pitch them, raising your leg in the air just like you see the pros do on T.V.

At bedtime, you lie right now with your beebee and bite and cuddle in with a crib full of stuffed animals. You smile as we pray and proudly announce "Amen." You may be getting big, but you still sleep like a baby.

You are in such a hurry to do anything and everything your big brother and cousins can do -- I wish you'd just stay a two-year old for awhile. You're a pretty cute one.

Caleb:
Creation amazes you. You ask often how God made things, not just trees and lakes, but things like the pier in Grand Haven and tall buildings. On Friday night you declared that God put "magic fire" on the glowing, full moon.

You are obsessed with baseball. All of it. Playing, watching, looking up statistics and videos on the internet. You can talk the game with the best of them.

Because you played for the Royals Little League team this year, you believe you are really, truly a part of their franchise. You know all their players names and count down the days until they play the Tigers so that you can watch them on TV, not just check their score on the internet. Uncle Dave has you believing you'll be taking a road trip to Kansas City any day.

You may be getting bigger, but you still love to cuddle. We hear your footsteps in the morning when you wake up, racing to crawl into bed with us. You love to lie next to your daddy on the couch and watch "just one more inning" of whatever baseball game is in progress.

You and your brother have started to fight this summer and it's enough to drive me crazy -- you egg him on and then scream when you chases after you with his arm raised to hit you or the nearest toy to throw at you. And then, sometimes you will just announce, "Hug, Josh?" and you'll run toward each other and squeeze.  Josh says, "WaWa. Hug. Me!"  He loves you. We do too.