A few more tidbits about Will.
He says many words as if they begin with an “F.” Trucks are “frucks” his crib is his “frib” and, of course, his crab shirt is his “frab” shirt. Also, the other day he told me he was “just hiding in the floset.” I never want this to stop.
If you ask him what a cat says he’ll tell you, “Mee Mow”
He knows he’s not a baby. (We already talked about that.) BUT. He also knows (um, maybe because we’ve been telling him this repeatedly) that “big boys” use a potty instead of diapers. Since he would like to never use the potty ever, thank you very much, he insists that he’s a “little boy.” We often have this conversation:
Me: Will, are you a baby?
Will (laughing): No, I not a baby!
Me: Oh, so you’re a big boy then?
Will: No, I not a big boy; I a wittle boy!
He’s pretty much the cutest.