J.J. and the Jammies

It used to be, Justin and I sounded like this to J.J.:

"Blah blah blah cookie blah blah milk blah blah."

But recently, he started understanding whole sentences.

Now, he is the best listener in the house. Nobody follows directions like J.J. He literally trips over himself to get the job done.

So when we say, "Go put your jammies on boys," J.J. runs past Richie, gives him the straight arm, falls on his face. Gets back up. Walks right on top of Johnny. Falls on top of Richie. Runs into his room.

Then he totally forgets why he's there.

Was it to rub his belly? Play with dinosaurs? Kiss his image in the mirror? Or just sit there and stare into space?

About an hour later he remembers. Put jammies on.

So he empties his entire drawer. Finally he finds his favorite dinosaur turtle neck and drapes it around his neck like a scarf. Then he drags one giant workboot into the living room, and climbs inside like a kitten on a cheezy screensaver.

Okay, ready for bed, he thinks.

I think there's a lesson here:

When you don't know what you're doing, do it with gusto. And then climb into a giant boot and go to sleep.