Luke Henry

I love Fridays so much it's ridiculous. This has been one of those weeks. I had a root canal on Monday, I met with my doctor yesterday and was given a diagnosis of migraines (and meds! Woo-hoo!), and I got 5 hours of sleep last night. But all of this is bearable, somehow, because today is Friday. Which means that tonight will be relaxing, and tomorrow I can sleep in. It promises to be a weekend full of friends, parties, and good football. A girl can't ask for much more than that...except, of course, to be a two-year-old's favorite Auntie.

It's time for another nephew update. There was a time that I would wax poetic about Luke Henry, my adorable nephew, for many of my blogs. He has been noticeably absent, but only because I have had other things to blog about, not because I've forgotten him, I've actually seen him quite a bit the last couple of months. The little man is a hoot and a half. Luke just turned two last month, and somehow, this has made him decide to be contrary. I'm sure this is what they refer to as the terrible twos, but honestly, it's so cute, because I am not his mother and I don't have to hear the word "no" a bajillion times a day, unlike my sister. When my parents gave him an electric tractor for his 2nd birthday, it took him all of 30 seconds and one push on the accelerator to decide that "done" was his favorite new word. When my sister decided to wash his blanket the other day, he rolled around on the floor with it in protest, insisting, "Clean, mommy, clean!", and when she was distracted talking on the phone to me, he decided to hide it under one of the couch pillows and sit on it, so she wouldn't be able to find it. He neglected, of course, to notice that half of it was sticking out behind the cushion. When Kary talks about Scott, Luke looks at her and says, "No, working!" because Scott missed Luke's birthday party for a show he was acting in, so I told him he was working and couldn't come. So now my two-year-old nephew thinks that my boyfriend is a workaholic.

But every night, when Kary asks him what he's thankful for he says, "MamaWeesy." Mama is grandma. Weesy is Tracy. So I'm either his old Italian grandmother, or he is thankful for both his grandmother and his Auntie Weesy. Really, who can ask for more than that? To have a two-year-old say thanks for you when he's doing his nightly prayers? There is no purer thing on this earth. Even if, when asked if he wants to talk to Auntie Weesy on the phone, he loudly says, "No!" At least God knows he loves me!