I love carrying my 3-year-old Logan around. I know, it’s way past due. I need to put him down. I mean, I don’t carry him all the time, just when I need some of that precious lovin’.
What’s weird is, I was strict about not holding Anya once she could walk on her own. It was easier to have her walk. I think it’s because she was always so independent.
Logan, on the other hand, is a mama’s boy. He loves the cuddle just as much as do, which makes it even harder for me to put him down. We both love it. Let me show you some of the good times.
Cute, I know?
But… lately my back has been hurting like the dickens. And I thought, “Could it be due, in part, to my incessant desire to reach over and pick up a 37-pound little boy?”
Geez, when I blog about it, it makes me seem like one of those moms who breastfeed until their kids reach the legal drinking age. I assure you, I’m not that bad.
So, I’ve been really trying to force him to hold my hand when he’s tired or sad. It’s been tough, but I know it’s good for him. My little boy is growing into a little man. Tear.
Hold on a minute…
Ok, I’m back. Just delivered about 32 smack-a-roos to Logan’s face. He’ll never be too old for that and it didn’t hurt my back at all. 🙂