My McKay

A few days ago I left the boys downstairs while I ran upstairs to change the laundry. I was gone maybe five or six minutes, and when I came back down to the kitchen this is what I found:

In 3+ years, has Ty ever colored on the floor, walls, furniture, etc.? Nope. And McKay already has before reaching 17 months. I suppose you could say it was my fault, after all, for allowing him access to the crayons. Actually, I thought the crayons were safe in a drawer with a cabinet lock on it. The little monkey has figured out, though, that even with the locks, the drawers can still open 2-3 inches--just wide enough for a little finger to slip through and get what he is after.

The crayons have since found a new home.

This kid seriously keeps me on my toes. One of his favorite pastimes right now is to steal whatever Ty is playing with when Ty's back is turned and take off squealing and running while Ty melts into a puddle of tears. He is definitely the antagonist the great majority of the time; the one who begins most of the arguments between the Marchant brothers. I know Ty was sometimes a stinker at this age, too, but he had nothing on McKay.

Mac is all boy. He is at his happiest when I turn him loose in the backyard. Without fail, he will find a stick or two and whack the trees or just run around with his treasure.

I LOVE this picture, by the way. It's just SO typical McKay right now.

I am predicting right now that we will make more trips to the ER with this kid than any other kid we might have. We haven't been there yet (knock on wood), but I just have this feeling...

People tell me all the time how well McKay speaks for his age. His verbal skills are really quite impressive. He can say basically whatever he wants to, and has even started stringing words together to create small sentences, such as "Hi, daddy!" (when Adam comes home from work) or "Oh, no! Juice!" (when he drops his sippy cup). In fact, McKay and I had a funny conversation recently. It went like this:

Me: "McKay, did you take Mommy's shoe?"

Mac: "Uh-huh."

Me: "You did? Where did you put it?"

Mac: "Um...hmmm..." (He paused as though he were thinking about it.) Then, "I don't know."

It was several days later that I found the missing shoe in a bathroom cupboard.

He sings, too. He has his own versions of several of the primary songs, with favorites being When We're Helping We're Happy and I Love to See the Temple. His version goes something like this:

"Da da da da da demple. Da da da da da day." He may be missing a few of the words, but he sings surprisingly in tune!

You know, despite all his boyish antics, Mac is really quite lovable. He says "please" and "thank-you" (or just "thanks") completely unprompted almost every time he wants/gets something. He is still 100% a mama's boy, and he still sucks that little thumb of his when he is tired or upset.

I remember feeling great trepidation the weeks leading up to McKay's birth that I would not love my second child quite as much as my first. Ty and I had almost two years together when it was just us, and I reasoned that since I would never have that one-on-one time with any other child, I might silently and secretly always love Ty a little more than my other children.

And then the Lord blessed me with McKay. Oh, my McKay. You are living proof that a mother can love her second child every ounce as much as she loves her firstborn.