I might have finally scored one.

The other two are so firmly entrenched as daddy’s kids that I know there’s no hope. I was one; I know there’s no winning over a daddy’s girl. (Sorry mom; I love you dearly.)

But the third kid has come at the end of daddy’s rope. And he happens to be the most typical two-year-old of the bunch, if you catch my drift. I’ve witnessed Mr. Patience snapping more than a few times recently. And I’ve discovered I am enjoying tickling toes and wrestling with the last baby.

Because it’s my last summer at home with the kids during the day, I started taking them on special outings every Wednesday. We all really look forward to it as special time that’s devoted to nothing but fun.

Last week it was scorching hot outside, so we took the indoor route and went to one of those warehouses jam-packed with inflatable slides and jumpy things. Honestly, I’ve never seen such unadulterated joy. Simon raced from jumper to jumper on his tippy toes, squealing most of the way. I ran after him, and we bounced, slid, threw balls and played night-night for two hours.

Since then, he’s been jumping into my lap every morning, saying, “Jumping with mama! Jumping with mama!” He also hasn’t protested me putting him down for his nap and has even picked my lap over The Geek’s here and there.

Who knows if it will stick, but for now, I’ll take my mama’s boy. (And maybe take him jumping a few more times.)

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