My son is so awesome. I love to see Seth turning into a little man day by day. I even love him when he is being a turd. He tells me some funny stuff sometimes and I love to hear him talking in the backseat of the car, 90 miles a minute, without an end in sight to his conversation. I love that he sings to himself about whatever it is that he is doing and I love that he tells me to turn up certain songs on the radio so he can sing along. I love that he is a mama's boy and I love that he is in love with his baby sister. He thinks she is the cutest baby ever and talks to her and plays with her and hugs and kisses her and if she cries, he is the first to say, "Mom, aren't you going to save her?" Anytime I leave him and Stella at their grandma's for a few hours, or anywhere else for that matter, he has a report ready for me when I get back. Usually, this report consists of, "Stella pouted." He usually says this with much concern, as if pouting is a terrible thing for a baby to do. I love when he says, "Mom, Stella has a stinky!" and waves his hand in front of his nose. I love that he is still an innocent little boy who thinks that a woman gets pregnant from kissing her husband at her wedding and I love that he doesn't question the existence of magical things like Santa or The Toothfairy. I love that he gets excited over little things, and I love that he clings to me when he is afraid. I love that he is so dramatic, even if it is a pain in the butt sometimes. I love that he has his own sense of style. I love that he has some odd quirks like his weird germophobia. I love that dimpled smile and those sparkly green eyes. I love my son and I'm so glad to have him in my life.