Day 3: Pezzunts

Sunday naps aren't long enough. just sayin'. conversation that just occurred with the slightly (Okay, super) cranky three year old:
Colt: Mommeeee, I wanna pezzunt
Me: A 'pezzunt'?
Colt: Okay.
Me: Why do you want a 'pezzunt'?
Colt: I wanna pezzunt, okay Mom. Go up-sairs, open pezzunt.
Me: Honey, I don't have a 'pezzunt' for you.
Colt: I wanna GO HOME! (His answer for everything. That, or 'I want thaus-udge' [sausage])
Me: You are home.
Colt: (crying)
Me: (chuckling) Do you need a hug?
Colt: Hey, don't laugh Coe-tun. Coe-tun need pezzunt. (walks off, comes back 10 minutes later and dives straight into it while crying) Hey! I wanna pezzunt. Mom, I wont a pezzunt. Coe-tun need a pezzunt.
Mom: (no response, maybe he'll forget about it)
Colt: (runs off to Dad) I wanna pezzunt Dad, okay.
Dad: (no response, thinking maybe he'll forget about it. men don't mess around)
Colt: Dad, I wanna pezzunt.
Dad: What are you saying? I don't understand you.
Colt: (runs back to me) I wanna pezzunt Mom. (Buzzer on dryer goes off)
Mom: The house is on fire Colt. RUN!
Colt: (pause) I wanna pezzunt. huh. someone is still in birthday mode. twenty minutes later. . .
Colt: Mom, I wanna duice (juice). I wanna pezzunt.
Mom: (eyeroll, this again?)
Colt: I wanna pezzunt.
Mom: Colt, I want to understand. Why do you want a present?
Colt: (hopeful) A Pezzunt.
Mom: Why?
Colt: A pezzunt.
Mom: No, why?
Colt: A pezzunt. I wanna juice.
Mom: If I get you a juice, can that be your present?
Colt: I wanna pezzunt.
Mom: (Crap)
(Dad walks in office)
Colt: I wanna pezzunt.
Mom: You want a present?
Dad: THAT is what he's been saying?
Mom: Yeah, what did you think he was asking for? (mumblings in the background from Colt about pezzunt going on)
Dad: I don't know. I thought he was saying p-e-n-s-a-k-e.
Mom: Seriously?
Colt: I wanna pezzunt.

I don't know why I shared this conversation. Maybe because Grandmas read this blog and I shouldn't just blab on about me. Or maybe because my run-ins with Colt secretly thrill me, and I can't get over that kid. He saved me. I am so grateful for that little guy. I think Blaine and I would have had a completely different experience losing Shiloh if we hadn't had Colt.

I've read about a part of the grieving process, and I don't know if this is just with individuals that lose babies, but they call it 'empty arms' and your arms literally feel empty. I had this really bad right after I lost Shiloh, and I still do once in a while. For me, I am super aware of my arms when it happens and they literally feel heavy--they ache like crazy. Sometimes, I'll sneak downstairs in the middle of the night, scoop Colton up and just hold him and rock him in the dark until I get too tired. He fills that void right up. I thank my Heavenly Father everyday for my two boys, and for sending them in the order He did.

They are the best 'pezzunts' I've ever had.