My darling Sweet Pea, my precious little one. She is my constant shadow, my stage-five clinger, my hook, line, and sinker. MJ and I joke around that she'd rather go to the seventh circle of hell with me, than to DisneyWorld with anyone else. Physically, though, she is 100% MJ's child -- slender arms and legs, lean muscles, not an ounce of fat.
Her favorite colors are yellow and "rainbow." (I learned the hard way that rainbows without the color yellow do not count. I bought her a rainbow-striped pair of pajamas I thought she'd love, but it had neon green instead of yellow. It went straight to the bottom of the pile.)
She's been obsessed with Volkswagon Beetles for a while now, and there's a house near ours that has two yellow ones always parked outside. They also have a yellow front door. It's basically Sweet Pea's dream house -- I feel like we should introduce ourselves so Sweet Pea could bond with them over a mutual love of Beetles and the color yellow.
She still prefers her cars and racetracks to any other toy, but other favorites are anything tiny and any container to put said tiny things in. She has softened her stance on future children; now she says "maybe I'll get babies some day." Her facial expressions and hand gestures keep us in stitches. And although she's still the pickiest eater of the bunch, she has opened her mind a bit in the last year and discovered a love of sausage and (most recently) bacon.
Sweet Pea is still the most likely Morrison child to be by herself, playing alone. She doesn't feel the need to do what anyone else is doing, and I love that about her. I hope she always stays so immune to peer pressure!
Little Man, on the other hand, will do anything if someone else wants him to. Play princess dress-up with CC? Done. Perform a gymnastics routine wearing Sweet Pea's leotard? Anytime. I'd pick him up from school and he'd say, "I wanted to play on the slide today, but no one would play with me, so I played in the sandbox with Parker instead." Oh, Little Man, be brave! I pray for him to gain the confidence to do whatever he wants.
He still slays me with his mega-watt smile, more adorable now with his missing tooth. His knowledge of Star Wars minutia is truly amazing. He's not shy at all, and will happily talk any stranger's ear off about Kylo Ren, General Grievous or Obi Wan Kenobi. He talks loudly at all times, and his most recent obsession is making noises: light sabers humming, explosions, space ships taking off ... church has been pretty difficult lately.
But when we're not trying to keep him quiet, Little Man can make us laugh like crazy. His one-liners (often delivered mid-tantrum) are hilarious. And he loves to sing, even instrumental songs (like his favorite, the Star Wars theme).
His memory is phenomenal, and it's very auditory, so in addition to anything from a movie or book, he remembers music. Every time a song comes on the radio, he asks what the name is, and he'll remember it the next time.
Little Man is happiest when he's physically engaged with something or (even better) someone. He has excelled in soccer this summer. He's in heaven whenever we wrestle or tickle with him, and if I flip him over or toss him onto the couch, he'll beg for more. First thing every morning, he jumps into our bed and cuddles with me for a few minutes before breakfast. It's one of my favorite parts of the day! Even if I'm up early, I make sure I'm back in bed before he comes in at 7.
In some ways, the last five years have flown by, but in other ways it seems like Sweet Pea and Little Man have always been part of our lives. I'm frustrated to not be more eloquent with words, but they each own a large part of my heart, and I'm so happy to celebrate this day with them.
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