Lunch love.

Sometimes there are things that happen that are so Mom-errific that all you can do is beam with pride and chuckle. And also blog about it.

I put my first love note in Alex's lunch box last week, smiling ever-so-smugly to myself as I thought "I am SO nailing this Mom thing." *high five self* You know, because he's been in school nearly two months and I'm just now putting a note in his lunch. In my defense, he eats hot lunch every day--so technically it was the FIRST time I packed his lunch. Winning.

When we got home that day, we started our daily ritual of going through his folder to talk about his day, what he learned, and look at all his papers. Then, with an ear-to-ear smile he said, "Mom! I got your love note and it made me so happy. I even wrote you back!"

He pulled the note out of his folder and unfolded it carefully--with such pride in his work--and handed it to me as if was the most precious gift in the world. And to be honest, it was.

\

This was my original note.

He wrote "Alex" on the top

and "Dad" by the heart.

This is the rest of his reply on the back of my note.

It's hard to see it all, because he wrote in pencil and my marker bled through the backside of the paper, but at the top he wrote "Deeaal" which is such a hilarious capture of his personality right now. EVERYTHING is dealmaking with him. Sometimes he doesn't quite get what a "deal" is and will use his mad negotiating skills to get to bed 5 minutes earlier...and he thinks he "won." It's so funny.

My heart parts were ALL OVER as he shared with me what and how he wrote me back. You can see he also wrote "Alex," "Dad," "Mom," and drew a heart and a smiley face just like I did in my note.

What a Mommy milestone. I got my first love note from my boy and I'm so proud. Saving it foreverandeverandever, then end.

Harper and the Hippo.

WUT?! 12 months!?!?

Real talk: I've been in denial about it. All of these "firsts" with Harper are also "lasts" for me as a Mom, so that's been super mega weird to deal with. But we're not here for my therapy session, are we? We're here for this little lady:

Oh my. I know for 12 months all we've talked about is how happy she is - and I must repeat myself for the 12th glorious time: she's just filled to the brim with joy. That's not to say she doesn't have her own, very strong personality--because she does. This girl is fierce, she is strong, she is dramatic and she is determined. But she wears the cape and crown well and uses her powers mostly for good.

But to use an Alex-ism, there are times when she's "just not that into it." Exhibit A:

Patience is not her virtue.

In terms of other milestones, she has taken a few steps here and there, but we have yet to capture any of them on camera. Secretly I think she's waiting for a full-on YouYube contract and her 10% off the top. She's still rocking her two bottom teeth with no others in sight but will eat anything you put in front of her with reckless abandon. Current favorites are green grapes, blueberries, cheese and avocado.

Happy birthday my sweet, baby girl. The day you were born is the day our family became complete. Your Daddy, Alex and I love you a million billion and back again. You are my heart, and I am yours. xo.

Regarding Kindergarten.

With just over 3 weeks of Kindergarten under our belts, I've taken the time and energy to come out from hiding underneath my kitchen table clutching a bottle of Don Julio to discuss how our world has changed. Kindergarten is a wonderful, magical place. But there's also a shitload of crap that nobody really wants to talk to you about. But me? Oh you know I want to talk about it.

First, we'll discuss the restroom. Oh yes. Kindergartners still go poop, did you know that? And did you also know that because of the relatively sick and twisted world we live in, they're pretty much left to their own devices to do this? Alex knows how to wipe himself, make no mistake about that. But if the kid who sits next to him doesn't know how? Dear Lord. A situation.

Next, let's discuss lunch. Alex attends before (and after) school latchkey, so in addition to hot lunch, he's also offered a hot breakfast. Nice, right? I've noted before that he has a hollow leg and will eat anything that's not nailed down, so getting him to eat the school food is not the problem. Getting him to not eat ALL the school food is the problem. You see, he has an online account that I place funds in, and every time he visits his girlfriends (aka the lunch ladies) they deduct money from his account. Either he's eating very, very well, or I'm funding the head chef's 2015 family trip to Greece.

Recess is a whole 'nother situation. They play outside, sure. But where? When? I have no idea. And if he forgets to bring home one more jacket I'll probably lose my mind.

I cannot even discuss the PTO at this moment in time. Don Julio and I will be back for another sesh on that in a week or so. At the end of the day, it's very nice people doing very nice things. But the efficiency-obsessed Type A in me just doesn't have the patience.

In summary, Alex is loving everything about Kindergarten. He's certain he's going to marry his teacher someday and is really thriving. I'm so proud of him. As for me? I also love his teacher, but will stop short of a marriage proposal. I also have control issues that I'm working through and wishing for the easy, scheduled days with Aunt Jane.

I try to be a very "go with the flow" kind of person, and I swear I'm not a helicopter Mom...but I really just miss him. I miss knowing the names and faces of all his friends and getting all of his silly inside jokes. This is why I'd like to just strap a Go Pro to his head and call it a day. Do you think the public school system would be into that?

A tribute.

A week from today, this smart, handsome and confident little boy starts kindergarten. I'm so proud of him.

 

Among other things, he tells me he can't wait to play on the playground, pick out his lunches and learn from his new teacher.

The key word there being "new," because he's had a teacher for the last 5 years and she is wonderful. Beyond wonderful, in fact. It's funny that most of my emotions around Alex going to kindergarten aren't centered around what he's going to; they're focused on what he's leaving.

I've raved more than once about how incredible Mrs. Davis' Daycare is, but it's also important to acknowledge that it's so much more for Alex. For Joe and me, it is a place where we knew he was safe, he was learning, and he was growing. But for Alex, it was his world. It's where he made his first friends, and learned how to BE a friend. It's where he learned to read and write his name. It's where he learned how to wash his hands and to be polite. He was encouraged to pray before meals, to honor our country and respect all people.

Aunt Jane (and yes, even Uncle Tom) have been much, much more than "just a daycare" for us. They're part of the village that has helped to shape and mold our Alex into the smart, creative and eager boy that he is. And for that I'm eternally thankful.

The wonderful news is that this isn't "goodbye" to our Aunt Jane, because Miss Harper will still be at Mrs. Davis' Daycare. I've half joked that she can stay there until she goes to College, but each day the idea sounds more appealing.

Harper and the hippo.

Oh hello there, sweet girl! You are seven months old today and still sweet as ever.

You are starting to *almost* sit up on your own, but still manage to topple over into a fit of giggles after about 30 seconds. You're a piggly wiggly and love to eat cereal and all sorts of fruits and veggies...although you'd chew on a spatula all day if we'd let you! Which leads me to believe there are some teeth on the way. Nothing yet, but soon!

The sun rises and sets on your Daddy and your biggest fan is still your big brother. I figure someday I'll come in handy...maybe when you need a homecoming dress or help picking out the perfect brand of mascara. Until then, little lady...until then.

You LOVE your jump-a-roo and you do NOT like your swing. Which is funny, because your brother was the exact opposite. You are a mover and shaker, for sure. You're also quite talkative with all the goo goo and gaa gaa chatter from sunup to sundown.

You're still sleeping like a champ, but I'm sad to report we don't swaddle you anymore. Sometimes I still wrap you up at night when I stare at you and rock you to sleep...but I'm only creepy when your eyes are closed, I promise. You won't remember any of my Mom-stalking. Everything else is fair game for your future therapy sessions, though.

I'm SO excited for the summer, Miss Harper, because you are going to get two very special new friends in your life. Aunt Kelli is having a baby boy in August and Aunt Jill is having a baby (something) in June! Alex thinks Aunt Jill and Uncle Kyle's baby is a girl, and if it is you two will have such a special bond...she'll be like the sister you're never going to have. :) Babies, babies, everywhere!

P.S. - Here's Alex at 7 months. He had a tooth by now!

V.

How is it that something can go from this:

 to this:

in five years?

Today is not about me--at ALL--but it's incredible what happens when you become a mother, isn't it? I'm the same, but I'm different. Five years ago, everything changed. Everything. And for the better, too.

The world is a much better place because this kid is in it. He's going to be something--I don't know what, exactly, but he'll change something, someone in a big way. His spirit and his soul are too strong and unique to just blend in and be a wallflower. I can't wait to sit back and watch all that magic happen in the years to come. I'm so glad he picked us.

He named his new "best friend" unicorn "Penny the Wonderpony" and decided he needed to wear his Hot Wheels hat today because "that's what 5 year olds do." He asked for blue cake pops and ice cream for dinner, and that's precisely what's going to happen . Because when you're 5, the world is your oyster.

And for those who want to see the bunk bed train room reveal, here you go:


Right after I stopped recording, he shouted, "This is the best birthday, everrrrr!" I'm so, so proud of this boy.

Alex, thank you for making me a Mommy, for making me better. You are sweet and kind and you remind me and everyone around you that life is to be lived with joy, gratitude and humor. You're awesome, dude.

Onto the next.

Last night I tucked this sweet 4 year old boy into his toddler bed for the very last time.

Because this weekend, he and his sister are going to Grammi and Poppi's house while Joe and I work like the surprise elves we are to completely transform his room into a "big boy" space for his 5th birthday (which is on Tuesday. Hold me.).

He's been clear for about the last 4 months that all he wants for his birthday is a bunk bed (with steps, not a ladder) and train sheets (not Thomas though, because he's for babies). He's specific, if nothing else? He also wants light blue paint for the walls and a unicorn. I'm not kidding with that last part. 

So, Joe and I will spend the weekend transforming his lair to meet his little boy dreams. I've got sheets and train fatheads and paint and baskets and a whiteboard (more on that later) hoarded in our closet, just ready to be on display. The bed is being delivered on Sunday and cheese willing, the room will be painted and ready for it all to be assembled. It will be so fun...but a little, tiny piece of me was so very sad last night as I tucked those wittle toes that are tipping off the edge of that too-small race car bed in for the last time. I suppose the bright side is that he'll look SO much littler in the full bed that's coming.

And my point in all of this is that if you have a steady hand and an extra paintbrush, we'll have beer and pizza at the ready. See you Saturday?

Father/daughter bonding.

In a rather unconventional twist, Dad and I had a little date last weekend. We didn't go to a Daddy/daughter dance. We didn't go to shoot pool, or even shopping.

We shot guns.

First, let me say that this was MY idea. It was part of his Father's Day gift, it just took us forever to actually go do it. Partially because we are busy people, and partially because I was legitimately scared shitless. I hate guns. I'd never held one, shot one, or even HEARD one shot in real life from "up close." And for the record? It's nothing like the movies.

We got the world's fastest lesson and safety update from the folks at the range. It's the largest (and safest) in Michigan, so I figured we'd get more than "Here's how to load it. Don't aim it at people. Wear these goggles and ear protection. And have a nice day." But legitimately, that's what we got.

Terrified, we headed into lane 2 and got our inner badasses on. We were totally out of our element and surrounded by people who clearly knew we didn't belong. But this was a lesson on empowerment and bravery, and I wanted to conquer my fears. So, like any good actress slash drama queen, I pretended like I owned the place.

However, I'm not exaggerating when I say that it took me probably 45 seconds holding the 9mm handgun in the air, pointed at the fake robber target just 25 feet away, finger trembling on the trigger, to actually fire the thing.

But then I did.

And you know what? It wasn't scary. It was actually very....impressive. To know your own strength, and the power of something so small, but so capable of changing the world in an instant, is something very powerful.

I'm still not a fan of guns. But I am a fan of my own power and willingness to embrace a fear and learn something new.

Oh, and bonding with the ol' man was a definite perk.

Gymnastics as a metaphor for growing up.

I firmly believe that in order to be a decent human being, you must experience life. Like, truly and deeply live your life bravely, boldly and confidently.

Alex is bold, but he's not very brave. For example, when other kids are playing "throw the ball in the pool" at Aunt Jane's house, Alex is prancing around a tree, flailing his arms and singing "I'm running arounnnnnd the treeeeeee, Mooooommmmmm." (<--Which I LOVE and adore and will encourage him to continue to march to the beat of his own drum. So step off the judgment train, mmkay?) And we're learning confidence. Like when we're at the park and he has trepidation about going down a big slide...but then he musters the courage and does it and we cheer him on like he's won gold in London. #thoseparents

Because that's what parents do. It's what parenting is. You encourage your kids, whether they fail or succeed. And if they fail, you dust them off for another go 'round when what you REALLY want to do is lock them in a bubble for the next 10 years. Until other kids aren't mean anymore. Until germs don't exist. Until life is always easy. Until no one breaks their heart. Unfortunately, that world doesn't exist.

So instead of the bubble, I'm choosing to do the next best thing: Let him do everything in this world that he wants to do. Except diving. He can't be a diver. All I see is smashed faces into diving boards. No diving. I want him to try new things and experience things that are outside his comfort zone.

At 60 that might mean a trip around the world. At 50 that might mean white water rafting for the first time (Hi, Dad). At 40 it might mean a red corvette. At 30 it might mean becoming a Dad or getting a new job. At 20 it might mean falling in love for the first time. At 10 it might mean mastering a new Lego creation.

And at 3, it means gymnastics. Learning to take instructions from someone other than Aunt Jane and Mom. Learning to make new friends in a strange environment. Learning how your little body can do new and scary things. Essentially, learning to be brave, bold and confident.

Joe and I sat in the parents' viewing loft last week during his very first class amazed at how he's grown. Amazed at how this thing we created embraced a new challenge. He listened so well, paying painful attention to what his teacher asked him to do. He tried so hard, wanting to be good at everything and to earn the praise of his teacher. And not once did he look up to the balcony for reassurance from Mom and Dad. He was strong, confident, brave and ADORABLE.

I'm not entirely sure how I'll be brave enough to let him go for the many, many milestones we have ahead of us. But I know that I will continue to try to be the best Mom I know how to be to help him achieve any of the milestones that he wants to achieve in life. But for now, galloping around a tree in Jane's backyard is all the milestone I need...but this once a week gymnastics business is a step in the right direction.

And for your viewing pleasure... (I recommend making the first one full screen, as it's too cute to not be life sized.)

Big boy room.

Up until the new house, Alex was still in his crib. Boy loves his sleep like his Momma (read: very much) and never tried to climb out, so we didn't mess with a good thing. However, we thought the new house was as good a time as any to transition him into his big boy room.

I asked him what he wanted his room to look like, and to no one's surprise, he asked for race cars. I totally delivered on that promise.

Uncle Kyle helped me get the bed into the room...

And by the time he got home from daycare, it was ready for him to see:


And with the exception of a few random fears (all solved with the purchase of a Dreamlight...and if your kids watch the Sprout channel, I'm SO sorry that the DreamlightDreamlightStarryNightWithDreamlight commercial will now be playing in our head all day long), the transition to the big boy bed has been a successful one!

In which I am the luckiest.

So I've been putting off this post for awhile now, mostly because I didn't want to jinx it. But also because I didn't want to get tarred and feathered. Because this? Is a hot topic.

Potty training.

It's no big secret that Alex has pretty much been the most awesomesauce kid regarding all things change since being sliced from my loins. Sleeping? 8-10 hours since he was 6 weeks old. Binky? Quit cold turkey and never looked back. Bottles? Day after his first birthday he would have none of it. Solid foods? Shrimp & avocado are two of his faves.

I legitimately did not want to potty train him. Ever. Literally, I could have waited until he was 12 and figured it out for himself and been totally fine with that. I've heard ALL the stories from ALL the moms. I researched ALL the tricks from ALL the experts. I read ALL the articles in ALL the mags. I wanted no part of it.

However, the few moms (of boys) that I talked to that had nothing but roses and ponies and sunshine to share regarding potty training all said one thing in common, "Wait until he's ready."

And so we did.

We've kept a little potty in the loo since about April. It just sat there. We added potty books to his repertoire. We talked about how the big kids at daycare go in the potty. But we only talked.

One day, he asked if he could pee in the big boy potty like Daddy. Seizing the moment, I took him in, lifted the lid...AND HE PEED. And angels sang and I did the "potty dance" and had absolutely no dignity left.

I bought Pull Ups that night. Can I get an amen for Costco?!?

He's never actually used the little potty. I think it was small and freakish to him, and he wanted to be like the big kids. So, I packed it up and got one of these for the magical #2s. For the record? Alex will do anything for Lightning McQueen. Anything. Use these things to your advantage, Moms.

About 2 weeks into the Pull Ups business we went full-on big boy undies (Lightning, natch) and with loads of support from Aunt Jane (daycare), I think it's safe to say we're 90% there. He still sleeps in the Pull Up, but wakes up totally dry 6 out of 7 days. He has yet to have an accident (this is where the jinx comes, I'm sure) and pretty much does the whole routine (sans wiping) himself. It's as if he doesn't even need me. *sniff*

In summary, I have no advice or nuggets of wisdom to share, other than the obvious, "Listen to your kid and do what is best for your family." If this involves waiting until he is 12 out of sheer fear, I support you.

3 is the magic number!

Happy third birthday to my sweet, silly boy. I want to bottle up everything about you right now, but am so proud to watch you grow!

That happened.

Apologies to those who are a Facebook friend and are reading this twice, but I wanted to make sure it was documented on le blog as a milestone. And also, I wanted my Mom to know and it's too long to text and she will likely be the second-to-last human being (next to my Dad) to join Facebook.

Anyway, today was "Bring something that starts with the letter D" day at daycare. We talked all last night about what he wanted to bring and settled on the dinosaur and the dump truck. Obviously.

Much to my surprise, when he woke up this morning the little squirt had a different plan. He bounced over to me, chipper as a lark and asked, "Kristi, we go to the donut store?"

Here's what is AWESOME about the above. One: He called me Kristi. I love it. Two: He KNEW that donut started with a "d." And C: He wanted donuts.

He is so his father's child.

Hump Day.

Blah. I find that even Starbuckies is unmotivating today. If it helps, I typed "globber dot com" in the address bar about ten seconds ago...so just trying to get into globber blogger to type this post has been a trainwreck. Happy Hump Day, indeed. Pffft.

And to be fair, I don't really have all that much to talk about. We did experience a "first" this morning -- when asked to brush his teeth (a task typically completed with shining success due in part to the help of Thomas the Toothbrush Train), Sassypants Alex put both hands on his lips and boldly proclaimed, "NO. I will NOT brush my teeth, Mommy!"

It probably didn't help matters that I busted out in laughter instead of remaining calm, cool and collected. Parenting fail.

The good news is his teeth are brushed and we all survived. Perhaps the terrible twos are just a little late knocking on our door.

Weekend fun!

Every summer, the company my Dad works for does a HUGE "Family Day." It's kind of like employee appreciation meets summer carnival. And boy, do they do it right.

Monster trucks. Midway rides. Fire trucks. Clowns. Tractor rides. Food. Music. Games. Crafts. And a parade!

This year, Alex got to be IN the parade. He thought it was pretty much the cat's PJs that he was the "caboose" on one of those barrel trains pulled by a lawn mower. He kept singing "Little Red Caboose" (even though it was green...details) and waving to all the people. "I'm in Poppi's car-ni-bal parade, Mommy!"

And then, if that weren't enough mind-blowing fun for one weekend, Alex learned to pedal his bike all by himself on Sunday! Pardon my super annoying and loud squeals in the video (and the quality; it's a cell video), but I was so jazzed for him. He's been working so hard on it and something just finally clicked. I think he went up and down the sidewalk no less than 50 times that afternoon, racing his Daddy with the lawnmower. Sigh. My little boy is getting so big!

Bye, bye, binkie.

Honestly, I don't even know when it happened officially. But I realized this morning that we are totally binkie free. Actually have been for quite some time.

When he turned 2 (April 15), we started allowing the binkie when he was in the crib, only. Aka bedtime and nap time. And as soon as he got out of the crib, we would drop it back in and say, "See you later!" I think we had about 4 in the rotation at that time, and as he started to bite through them I'd just toss them out one by one. There aren't any left.

So that's it. No more binkie. He's never even asked for it. I would guess it's been nearly a month or two by now. Is it really that easy?

And to the Moms that totally experienced Hiroshima Pt. 2 when doing the binkie cease and desist (or some other version of binkie banishment that involves shipping it off to Santa for orphans that don't have binkies, recycling it for Captain Planet, or sending it to binkie heaven...I've read some cray-zee stories, for real), you are not allowed to hate me. I didn't plan it this way. I honestly thought we would have WW3 over this. It just sort of happened.

As payback for this little slice of binkie perfection, I fully expect potty training and moving to a big boy bed to be hellacious. Stay tuned.

Seriously. This face.

*BAM* I just thought we would go ahead and get the obligatory ohmygoshheissocuteitmakesmewanttopunchbettywhiteintheface picture of Alex out of the way. That face? Kills me. Slays me on a daily basis.

Especially when he's being a typical 2 year old. See also: putting his sand in the pool, farting in the bath tub (which he thinks is high-LAR-ious, btw), standing at the top of the stairs with a deathgrip on the baby gate screaming, "MOOOOOOOOOOMMMMMY! MOM! MOM! MOM! MOM! MOM! MOOOOOM! MOM! MOM! MOM! MOM!" (you get the point?) at the top of his lungs, and/or his perception of reality that ice cream is, in fact, all he needs to consume for a well-balanced dinner.

Don't you see? He's becoming a PERSON. A little, tiny version of what I can only imagine is going to give me a serious run for my money at age 13. He's becoming more independent ("I can put on my shoes, Mommy."), telling us what he wants ("I want M&Ms, Daddy. A brown one.") and has an opinion on basically everything ("I want to watch Special Agent OSO, Mommy.") For the record, I will state here and now that if the actual Special Agent OSO ever shows up on my doorstep, I will punch him in his bear groin until he weeps magical bear tears in three special steps.

The moral of this story is that Alex is ri-donk-ulous. And I'm loving it. And bears should stay away from my doorstep.

Potty talk.

Methinks it's that time...

Alex has been repeatedly asking to go "poo poo on the potty." And the one time I actually buckled down and took him seriously, he had already gone in his diaper. (Bad Mom.)

I figure since he's asking, I should take advantage and do something about it. But I'm completely out of my element, here. Bottles, cereal, diapers, baths, swimming, bugs...all of these things I can do. But bodily fluids of the pee and poo form and me aren'tsomuch bffs. (Remind me to tell you the one about Alex vomming down my shirt at a local Chili's.)

I digress. I need to make a potty purchase, and I need some guidance. What works best? Those little mini-seat rings that you put over the real toilet? The little mini-potties? A hole in the backyard?

And also, where do I buy a hazmat suit?

It's not just a river in Egypt.

I have absolutely nothing for today's post except a tall glass of denial with a side of no seriously, when did this happen?

Does he look 17, or is it just me? I can't even stand it...

And yes, he's riding the penny pony at Meijer.

Two is too much fun.

It's been awhile since a post has been 100% devoted to my little squirt, so here goes.

He had his 2 year well visit a few weeks ago and is still very long and lean (not sure where he gets it, but encouraging him to ride that wave as long as possible). He just moved into size 4 Pampers and despite the fact that he looks like he's waiting for Noah, 18 month clothes. Thank you summer, for finally arriving. Shorts=best ever for skinny minny. He's my little bigfoot, wearing a size 6 shoe...and I might have shed a few tears last night when I packed away all his size 4 and 5 shoes. All 23 of them. Yes, I have a problem.

Two Years - 28 lbs. 13 oz. (50%ile); 34.75 in. long (75%ile); 49.8 cm. head (25/50%ile)
18 Months - 22 lbs. 14 oz. (10/25th %ile); 32.75 in. long (50/75th %ile);  48 cm. head (50/75th %ile)

In other news, he's seriously the funniest person I know. He loves music, Little Einsteins, Thomas and Special Agent Oso and will tour our house for hours on his knees with anything on wheels. He loves, loves, loves to be outside and would swim all day if we would let him (more on that tomorrow). Giving credit to our amazing daycare provider, Aunt Jane, he can count to 30, knows all his letters, spells his name, talks about the weather, asks/answers questions and knows animals, colors, sounds and shapes. Just a few nights ago, we were walking to the park and he said, "Mommy, I see it!" and I said, "What do you see, Alex?" He points to a flipping stop sign and says, "Octagon, Mommy! Red means stop." And then I died, obviously.

His goodnight prayers are far and away my favorite part of the day. We do "Now I lay me down to sleep..." and at the very end before we say "Amen" he lists all the things he wants God to bless. It usually goes something like, "God bless Mommy, and Daddy, and Grammi, and Poppi, and Un-ca Ky-a, and Aunt Chill, and Aunt Kewwi, and Uncle Day-pid, and baby Sam-e-oh, and Nana, and Papa John, and Jake, and fishies, and take a bath, and binky, and Mommy, and Daddy...aaaaaaaaaaaaaaand twucks." Always with the trucks. And always, always last...after a long (and often repetitive) list.

As previously mentioned, he's an absolute ham. He loves to play "Knock knock, who's there?" (most especially when I'm in the loo) and will all but make out with himself whenever he sees himself in any reflective surface. He gets that from his Dad. True to his vanity, he also loves to have his "pit-cher" taken. Here's a sampling of his "cheeeeeeeeeeeeeeese" faces:

I know. I can't even stand his cuteness. It punches you in the face like a hot pepper hidden in a Chipotle chicken salad. SO DELICIOUS BUT YOU JUST CAN'T STOP.

And there you have it.