Character and a half

My fifth son Aaron is a handful.  Much bigger than the rest of the kids.  There is no amount of childproofing that can keep us ahead of this guy.  He's the one that I fear someday coming around a corner to discover he's fallen out the window/stabbed himself with a knife/pulled the refrigerator on top of himself/insert-every-mother's-worst-nightmare-here.  Keeping up with him is mentally exhausting.

This afternoon I was bathing the baby, and he was beside me. He kept getting his arms in the tub and, being two, no amount of pleading from me would keep him from it.  Knowing full well my hands were occupied gave him the perfect opportunity to keep on doing what he wanted, and he did.  And before I knew it, he pulled a soaking wet towel out of the tub and drenched himself, me and the floor with water.  I was less than patient.  My husband ran up the stairs to see what was the matter (and, to his credit - God bless him - did not mention the fact that I was clearly over-reacting).  He let me vent about how I can't keep up with this boy, how I've never had a child who caused me so much trouble.  But after a few minutes of clarity, I began to feel guilty.  I thought about little Aaron, and what a joy he is, how he makes everyone happy, and how he is fearless and bold.  I called to him from the nursery (where I was dressing the baby) and began tell him all of those things.

"Aaron," I said, "I love the person that you are, and I'm sorry for saying you were the most trouble I've ever had. I love you exactly as you are, and when I get upset it's because I'm not holy enough to deal with your personality the right way..."

And then he danced into the room.  And he was buck naked.

Seriously...this child is going to get me to Heaven.

And I love him so much for that, and so many other reasons.  My little fire cracker!