Cheeky

Toby is becoming more and more himself, growing personality by the day. He's already overflowing so it's fun to see him expand when you have already thought GEEZE he's spunky, what a ham a thousand times.

One very small complaint I have about his growing confidence is that he's begun to explore the dark side of his power. He likes to throw things. At mama. Ha.

On Saturday we observed Father's Day with my kick-butt dad & a big delicious BBQ at casa del Aumsville. It was sweet- the house was scented with peonies my mom had cut in enormous bunches- M. Stewart eat your heart out.

So Toblerone and I were sitting quietly next to one another on the loveseat in my parent's dining room, chatting up the fam and playing with some agate coasters he loves. I saw the arm raise back and issued a Darth-Vader-Low-Voice "don't throw, Toby." He let loose anyway, and immediately tilted his head down so as to avoid meeting my eyes. I leaned in close and said some Mommy-speak sanctioned thing like, "We don't throw things, Toby."

He thought for a second, head down, eyes averted. Then he turned his head up to look directly into my soul, leaned up and gave me a kiss right on the lips.

His first kiss was a diversionary tactic, a bomb diffusion, a flower in the barrel of a gun.