Did I mention that it was P’s birthday this week? Probably not. I was going to write out his birth story, but I took up cross-stitching instead. (I’ll post those soon. They’re so awesome they make my insides squiggle.) Anyways. This is Peyton. He just turned SIX. I love November. Because for a month, I can say my boys are 6, 7 and 8. It makes me sound awesome. And insane.

This is Peyton in his Halloween costume. He had to have a DARK GREY wizard coat. Had to be. He had to pick out the fabric. Then he didn’t want a wizard wand. He wanted a guitar. So I tried to call him a “guitar wizard.” Sounds about right, right? Nope. He insisted that we say he was a “magic man with a guitar.”

When asked what he wanted for Christmas, he told my mother that he wanted a gun to kill me with. Her response? “Well, that takes care of two presents…” He’s joking. Right? I’m sure it’s only him joking. He’s a humorous kid (that is going to one day kill me while I sleep).

On Friday I took him out to spend the money that Grandma Lori sent him. Because we’re like that. We don’t save. On our way out of the store  I was putting Abby in the car and the shopping cart he just got out of (he prefers to roll, don’t hate) took off down the hill that is the Target parking lot. You should have seen him tear off, laughing wildly, after it. I was almost laughing so hard I couldn’t catch up. After that, we wandered around Toys R Us and went and got a treat. I thought we had bonded. Put the whole killing me with a gun thing behind us. So on the way home, hope filling my soul, I asked him, “so, we had fun today, right?” he responds, “Not THAT much fun.”

But we can move past his hatred of me for a minute. He’s a GOOD boy. He’s also really smart. You wouldn’t think it because he’s the one of my kids that wore a gigantic motorcycle helmet around for a week so he could run head first into things (The best part about that though was he was top heavy, so every time he’d bend over, he’d fall down head first). He’s super sweet to his brothers and has always taken on the roll of Casey’s friend and caretaker. He really looks after Casey. On Sunday we had to leave church during Primary because  Casey was freaking out. We get in the car and Peyton took his four quarters that he’d been carrying around and handed it to Casey to make him feel better. He really does have a good heart, under all of that mother-based rage.

I love that boy.