Every once in awhile (mostly when he's screaming or throwing some kind of a tantrum) I have doubts that Noah is mine. Forget the fact that I carried him for 34 weeks and 5 days (hehe) and I vividly recall the experience, I just have these passing thoughts that the child that is behaving like a little monster couldn't possibly be mine... That said, even if those moments I love him "more than the sun and the moon and the stars" as I tell him every night before bed.
On the flipside, there are these moments that it smacks me right upside the head how very much like me he truly is. Case in point; our conversation this morning.
(I've just opened the dishwasher to put Mikayla's dishes in and while there notice that Noah did a great job putting his plate in facing the right direction and his bowl as well.)
Me: Hey Noah, you did a great job putting your dishes away. You are awesome!
Noah: I know.
Apparently my lack of modesty is alive and kicking in my eldest...
Further proof came a few hours later when I went to pick up Noah from school. Noah was one of the last kids Mrs. Porto dismissed today so we had a few minutes to talk to her about how Noah's been doing in school. After she conveyed to me that he was doing great, but they were working on a few specific things, I told her that we were working on him thinking he knew everything and having to have an answer for everything (gee, that's not me all over!) To which she tells me: "Well he did tell me that he is the smartest one at his house. Smarter than Mom and Dad even." As my cheeks colored a bit I simply told her "Some days I'm sure he's right."
Leave it to my three year old to remind me where I stand ;-)
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